


Beauty and Rage

by PaperCities



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Affairs, Age Difference, Asphyxiation, Bottom Carl Grimes, Coma, Daddy Issues, Dangerous bikers, F/M, Gang leader Negan, M/M, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Physical Abuse, Possessive Rick, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Sex, submissive carl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 10:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15483783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperCities/pseuds/PaperCities
Summary: Carl is used to danger. He’s used to men who hit him and leave bruises on his thighs. He doesn’t expect to meet the complete opposite at the biker bar on the edge of town. And Negan sure as hell doesn’t expect to become so intrigued by a rage filled, underage, dangerous boy making out with another man on his bike.





	Beauty and Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! New fic!!! :^)  
> This is NOT the sequel to "You like your boys insane", but that one is coming out soon!!!  
> This one is pretty messed up, so just keep that in mind as you begin. This was an impromptu idea, and I wrote it super fast so I apologize before hand for any grammatical/ spelling mistakes. 
> 
> !!!WARNING (READ THIS BEFORE YOU GO ON)!!!  
> This fic contains:  
> -rape/non-con  
> -graphic sex  
> -underage sex  
> -father/son incest  
> -violence towards a child  
> -psychological trauma and abuse  
> -a TON of angst  
> PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS FIC IF ANY OF THE ABOVE TRIGGERS YOU!!!  
> I do not condone any of the above. This is simply fictional and for entertainment purposes.
> 
> *Sorry if I forget to tag anything. Just let me know if I do*
> 
> Please, enjoy! I cried like five times while writing this, so please brace yourselves!  
> Also! I listened to "Ultraviolence" and "Ride" by Lana while writing this; it really sets up the mood!
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns, suggestions? Feel free to contact me :D

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CARL

 

Rick is still in his coma, and Carl wonders if he would ever wake up.

Lori probably doesn’t think so; she had moved on rather quickly, after all. Carl doesn’t know what she sees in Shane. He’s nothing like the man Rick was. Then again, all Carl knows about Shane is the smell of liquor on his breath, the bruises he leaves on Carl’s body, and the feeling of his dick deep inside of him.

He wonders if Lori knows about it all and she simply wishes not to see or if she is really too drunk to ever notice. She did drink too much now a days.

Carl makes his way home from school, sneakers hitting the pavement heavily. It’s way too hot for a late winter noon, and Carl’s sweating through his shirt. He hopes Shane’s either out or passed out from his alcohol; he doesn’t want to deal with the man’s shit today. He touches his father’s ring where it’s strung on his necklace. Life would be so much better if Rick would just wake up.

 

…

 

When he gets home, Carl can already smell the sour brandy. Lori must be at work, if the dirty dishes in the sink and closed shutters meant anything.

“I’m home,” he calls dully into the silence, wondering where Shane could be. Sighing, he drops his backpack to the ground before going to fix up the house. He opens the shutters, tidies the living room, dusts the furniture, washes the dishes, and wipes the floors clean. Just as he’s folding the freshly dried laundry, a strong hand wraps around his throat from behind. His wrists are gripped and twisted up against his back.

He doesn’t scream despite his heart rate picking up and his eyes widening in fear. Shane’s pressing his body snuggly against his, grinding his bulge into Carl’s ass.

“Look at you, being such a good little wife,” he hisses into Carl’s ear, breath sour and stale. Carl tries to twist away, but Shane’s easily two heads taller and even broader. “C’mon, baby, there’s nowhere to run to.”

Carl suddenly feels sick, movements getting more desperate as he attempts to wrench his hands free. Shane’s grip around his throat tightens, and Carl chokes, gasping for air.

“Shane, stop. Please,” he wheezes, tears welling in his eyes.

The man chuckles into his hair, breath burning hot on his skin. He doesn’t stop choking Carl. The boy thrashes to get loose.

“Shane,” he pleads, voice croaky.

Shane releases his grip, letting Carl catch his breath before squeezing again. He keeps doing it, so many times that Carl’s sure he passed out a bit. Shane slaps him to bring him back to the present before turning Carl around and sweeping everything off the table to lay him flat on it. Carl coughs, crying now. Shane shushes him, bending over him to press kisses to his face.

“Stop crying, Carl. You know I don’t like it,” he scolds, tugging the boy’s shirt over his head. “I’m making you feel good.”

Carl lays limp, letting Shane undress him completely. He tries to focus on something else, anything else. The smell of the detergent, the creaking table legs, the light coming into the small room from the tiny window. It’s stifling in here. His breath hitches when Shane suddenly stills.

“What the hell is this?” he says, voice quiet like it always gets when he’s pissed beyond pissed. Carl flinches when he reaches down to grab the ring that’s chained around his neck. He examines the simple silver band, and Carl can pinpoint the exact moment when he realizes it’s Rick’s wedding band because his expression morphs into one of pure hatred.

Carl expects the punch to his face, but he still cries out in pain. Shane tugs the chain so hard it snaps, leaving a painful red line where it cut into Carl’s skin before it broke. He throws the ring somewhere and turns back to Carl with a murderous look.

“You’re fucking mine, you hear me? Your daddy can’t help you; he’s never gonna wake up,” he snarls, thrusting hard into Carl. The boy doesn’t speak, a blank expression falling over his features. It seems to anger Shane more. He grabs Carl’s throat again, strangling him. “You better answer me, Carl! Who do you fucking belong to?”

Carl weakly tugs at his hands, mouth open to catch the air he can’t get. Shane lets him go.

“ _Who do you belong to?_ ” he yells, hitting Carl across the face again.

“You,” Carl whispers, throat burning. “You. I belong to you.”

 

…

 

When Shane’s done, he pushes Carl away and off the table. Carl lands onto the cold tiles with a little groan but doesn’t attempt to get up. He just lies there in pain and praying to God that Shane leaves; and the man does. Carl hears him zip up his pants and stagger right out the front door. When he’s sure it’s safe to move, he gingerly sits up, trying to not aggravate his tender bottom. His neck feels sore as hell and he can’t croak out any words at all.

He remembers the ring suddenly and jumps up to look for it despite the pain. He rummages through the clothes on the floor and finds nothing. Crying again, he curls up against the washing machine in helplessness.

Later, as he’s refolding the laundry, he catches a glint of silver from the light of the setting sun. He dives down, bursting into tears when his fingers touch his father’s ring. He gingerly picks at the necklace clasp until it’s relatively closeable.

His mother comes home sometime around nine, and Shane’s still out. She doesn’t really acknowledge him where he’s doing homework at the kitchen table. Her eyes do linger on the striking red finger shaped bruises on his pale neck. He’s sure she chugged straight from a whiskey bottle before she went into her room.

 

…

 

Saturday mornings are always quiet for him. Lori’s at work by then, and Shane’s on duty. Carl wakes gently, throat aching and dry. He drinks a tall glass of water and takes a cold shower. He finds comfort in using his father’s shampoo and cologne; a whiff of the comforting scent reminds him that the man’s still with him. He makes a simple breakfast of yogurt and mashed strawberries, the only things he can actually put down his inflamed throat. He decides to finish up homework before tending to the flowers in the garden, a great love of Rick’s.

He cuts stems of the pretty purple lilacs that Rick adores so much and places them in a vase in his room. He almost cries again just thinking of Rick’s smile when Carl would complain about the flowers appearing in his room after school. For lunch, he makes mac and cheese and steamed vegetables. He stares into the flourishing garden, wondering why Shane hadn’t been the one to get shot that day.

He plans to sneak out that night, do something dangerous.

 

…

 

Shane doesn’t look at him through dinner, probably because Lori happens to be off that night from the hospital. They eat in relative silence, with the exception of Lori chatting animatedly away with Shane about this and that. Carl hopes she can entertain Shane in bed tonight so he doesn’t sneak into Carl’s room in the middle of the night to find him missing. Lori must have noticed the lilac bouquet he placed on the dining table centerpiece because she determinedly didn’t look at it the whole evening.

Carl leaves them to it after dinner, claiming that he needs to finish up some homework. They don’t bring up the raspiness of his voice. Carl pictures stabbing Shane in the neck with his steak knife.

 

…

 

The biker bar stands at the edge of town where the gangs and criminals hang. It was a dangerous place, but Carl is no less dangerous than any of the men here. The buffer, a tall ginger man, grins at him as he approaches.

“Back again, sweet pea?” he asks, holding the door open for him.

Carl smiles bitterly. “You know me. How could I resist coming back to a den of sinners?”

Abraham laughs. “Be careful, kid. Don’t wanna see your pretty face on the news, murdered somewhere.”

Carl shrugs past him into the smokey, darkened room. Old rock music blasts from several hidden speakers. People are dancing and grinding and laughing. The pool tables are all filled tonight. His eyes go straight to the men sitting at the bar.

It doesn’t take long for people to begin noticing him. He’s obviously underage, pretty, and seductive. The men practically start drooling for him. Someone buys him a drink, which he determinedly doesn’t touch. Before he knows it, a man’s holding him by the waist, pressing him against the wall, and ravishing his lips. He tastes like Shane, of alcohol and sweat and mint. Carl moans, wrapping his arms around the guy’s neck, pulling him closer.

“Take me somewhere quieter,” Carl rasps in between their kisses. The man grunts in reply. Carl likes the mindless ones; they don’t ask stupid questions.

They stumble out the back door, still kissing and grinding. Carl must have stumbled because he falls against a motorcycle with his back pressed firmly to the seat. The man prevents him from moving, literally on him as their tongues meet between them. He loses track of time when he’s doing this, but the next thing he knows, the man is ripped off of him and another gorgeous biker is staring at him.

“What the fucking shit do you think you’re doing on _my_ fucking bike?” he demands, voice rich and deep. Carl can’t tear his eyes from the man’s deep brown ones. He’s still perched on the bike, but the new guy makes no move to get him off. “You better fucking scram unless you want a damn turf war, Monroe.”

The guy Carl had been making out with leaves without another word, and Carl snorts a little at his cowerdance. He turns back to the other man, taking in his worn leather jacket, windswept hair, and strong jawline. The logo on his back read “Saviors” with two bloody barbed wire wrapped baseball bats.

“You gonna make me get off your bike now?” Carl asks, leaning forward.

The man eyes him up and down, a smile spreading on his lips. It’s a better expression that the one he had given the Monroe guy.

“Hell, kid!” he exclaims. “You can sit your perky little ass on my bike forever if I could have it my way. You look _damn_ good.”

Carl suddenly feels an urge to kiss him, teeth and all until they’re both dripping blood from their lips. Instead, he hops off the bike and smooths his shirt out.

“As much as I would like to, I gotta head home,” he says, looking up at the man’s impressive height.

The man raises an eyebrow.

“Home, huh?” he mutters. “I hope that’s not where you’re getting those bruises from ‘cause they look kinda serious.”

Carl starts, flinching a little at his words.

“They’re not serious,” he states, frowning now. After a pause, he adds, “I don’t break easily.”

The man grins. “I can tell. You’re dangerous and angry. That’s a strong combination.”

Carl doesn’t reply, but he goes on tip toe and wraps his arms around the man’s neck, steppin closer. Musk, leather, and gunpowder invade his senses.

“Would you fuck me if I let you?” he whispers, feeling strong muscle under the man’s thin t shirt. “I’m young and tight. Would you do it?”

He feels the man take a sharp breath. He knows how he’ll answer, how every man will answer. When he’s certain that the man would be no different, he’s stunned to be gently moved away. The man lowers himself onto his knees so he’s looking up at Carl.

“I would _not_ ,” he says firmly, “because I know you’ve been hurt before, and I will never forgive myself if I acted in the way you expect every man to act towards you.”

Carl’s eyes are wide as he looks down at him in disbelief. The man continues.

“You head home now, babydoll, but come find me next time,” he says. “I’ll buy you something to eat.”

He winks and swats Carl on the ass playfully but still with a certain gentleness.

Carl blinks rapidly.

“I’m Carl,” he blurts.

A chuckle.

“I’m Negan,” he replies. “I’ll see you around, Carl.”

 

…

 

Shane comes to him on Tuesday, when Lori’s on the hospital night shift. He crawls into Carl’s bed, begging for forgiveness, calling Carl his baby, his sweetheart, his honey, and promising to never hit him again. Carl just lies there, not speaking, not moving. It’s been done before, this whole act. Abuse, apology, abuse. He knows the cycle intimately now.

They have sex again for no reason other than the fact that Shane has the audacity to believe that he enjoys it. Shane’s kisses feel disgusting on him.

 

…

 

Enid and Ron sit with him at lunch. They can see the bruises, he knows for sure. The concealer he put on his neck had smeared off during PE, and he forgot to put more on.

“Lizzie, don’t leave us hanging! What happened next?” A friend of theirs is saying, buzzing with anticipation.

“Not so loud! We’re gonna get overheard!” A girl shushes. Carl eats his croissant sandwich in a daze, staring at a spot of grass faraway.

“Yeah, one of us finally got laid. We wanna know all the details!” Someone else said. Carl grimaces to himself. _One of us, huh?_ Carl had gotten “laid” years ago. If they’d known, it would have been bad.

Lizzie, the blonde beauty in their little group, had sex last weekend with her boyfriend. Carl didn’t feel like congratulating her. In fact, he felt rather uncomfortable discussing this with his friends.

“So,” she says, smiling smugly. “He told me to bend down and lick him _there_. All the way from the base. Like, I was completely new to this, so I told him to tell me what to do, but that’s just weird.”

“What’d it taste like?” The girl asks, interrupting again.

Carl knows the answer to that, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say shit.

“Did he make you swallow?”

“Did it feel good?”

“Was he big?”

He feels sicker and sicker with each question and each reply from Lizzie. The last question from Ron is enough to make him hurl his breakfast.

“Did he like it rough?”

Carl gags, jumping up and rushing over to a trash bin before vomiting everything in his stomach. Enid rushes over, helping him hold his hair out of his face. He barely registers her calling for one of them to fetch a nurse. The next thing he knows, he’s in the nurse’s office, laying on one of the beds. He keeps vomiting. His mom is called in to take him home.

She’s silent the whole way back.

 

…

 

It’s Thursday, the day he usually visits his dad in the hospital, but he’s been given strict rules to not move about. It must be the stomach flu, the nurse had said, and all he needs to do is wait it out. Carl doesn’t think it’s the stomach flu. Shane’s supposed to be home shortly to look after him. Carl hopes he crashes his car on the way.

The lilacs in his room are so pungent and sweet; he’s lulled to sleep by the comfort of them. He dreams that Rick is reading him a bedtime story. The man pats his hair, laughing when one of Carl’s curls wrap around his finger. He kisses Carl’s forehead, handing him a chocolate chip cookie and glass of warm milk. His lips feel like heaven on Carl’s skin. Rick doesn’t leave until he’s asleep.

Carl’s roused by Shane’s fingers probing into his body. Dream Rick dissolves, and his empty presence is suddenly too much. Carl cries when Shane enters him, hiding his tears in his pillow.

 

…

 

“You’re back, babydoll.”

Negan looks just as gorgeous as he remembers. His black t shirt is white today, though his dark jeans and leather jacket are the same. Carl scoots into his booth, sitting across from him. He offers a shy smile.

“You’re here, too,” he says back.

Negan smiles, whistling at a server.

“Two beers, hun. Thanks,” he orders. The waitress flushes and goes to fetch their drinks.

Carl raises an eyebrow.

“Do you have a reputation or something?”

The man chuckles. “Something like that. I see someone worth my time, and I’ll take a chance.”

Carl moves his bangs out of his eyes, pursing his lips.

“Am I worth your time?” he asks, studying Negan intently.

“I’ll tell you what, kid. I like the possessive, uncertain ones,” he replies, winking. “Hell yeah you’re worth my time! Do you think I’d be sitting here with you otherwise?”

The lady sets their drinks dowun. Carl doesn’t make a move to touch his. Negan raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Your daddy drinks?” he questions, sipping his beer.

Carl shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Your mom?”

“Something like that.”

Negan takes a long sip of his drink. Carl meets his eyes the entire time.

“Oh yeah!” Negan suddenly says, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a small jar of a creamy looking balm. He hands it to Carl, keeping his hand over the boy’s for a moment longer. “It’ll help with the bruising on your neck… or wherever else you need it.”

Carl looks down at the balm before nodding and tucking it safely into his pocket.

“Thanks,” he says, a hand unconsciously moving up to touch his neck.

Negan bumps their knees together in reply. That makes Carl smile. Negan makes him laugh for the first time in a long while.

Carl hugs him before leaving.

 

…

 

He visits Rick on Sunday, bringing a large bouquet of the freshest lilacs. The nurse in charge of overseeing Rick’s recovery, Michonne, smiles at the sight of him where he’s almost covered by the tiny purple flowers. She finds an empty vase for him and gives him ample lone time with his father.

Carl pulls up a chair, leaning close to him. His small pale hand comes up to clasp his father’s larger, tanner one.

“I hope you’ve been well, Dad. Sorry I couldn’t come visit earlier,” he begins, smiling softly. “I got kinda sick. Stomach flu or something.”

His father lays motionless, his expression calm. Carl reaches up to cling onto Rick’s wedding band around his neck.

“I got a B on my report card this quarter for Calculus, sorry, Dad. I have As in all my other subjects, I promise. I’ve been studying a lot.”

Carl’s fingers tighten around his hand.

“I miss you so bad, Dad- _daddy_ ,” he whispers, tears welling in his eyes. He releases the ring to wipe his eyes. Images of Shane and the horrid events of the past year and a half haunt him. He smiles, though, for his dad. “I met someone new; he’s really sweet, kinda like you. His name’s Negan. He makes me really happy.”

Despite hospital protocol, Carl climbs gently onto the bed next to Rick, making sure they hardly even brush as he lies down. He rests his head very lightly against Rick’s beating heart. It makes him feel relaxed to hear his father’s heartbeat. It’s steady in his ears, syncing with his own. He can’t help the tears that flow freely.

“You don’t have to worry about us,” he continues, voice shaking. “Just focus on waking up, please. I need you to wake up, daddy. I want to see your eyes. I want to hear your voice, even if it’s you hollering at me about something I did wrong.”

He sniffles.

“I want to taste your bad cooking. Like that one time Mom went on her business trip, and you almost burnt the kitchen down to cook me lasagna.”

Rick remains still, and Carl smiles to himself sadly.

“Whenever you’re ready to wake, daddy, just think of me.”

 

…

 

When he gets home, he’s surprised to find both Lori and Shane at home making dinner. Taking a deep breath, he approaches them and greets them both politely. Shane is all smiles today, bustling him in and setting the table for the three of them. Lori’s cooking something nice, and Carl realizes he hasn’t eaten since breakfast at eight in the morning. While she’s occupied with something on the stove, Shane makes an excuse for Carl that he needs to shower and change into something comfortable before pulling him upstairs.

Shane takes him into Rick’s office for some reason, pressing him against the flat surface of Rick’s wide mahogany desk. Carl clenches his eyes shut when he feels Shane start tugging down his pants.

“We gotta make this quick, sweetheart. I miss being inside of you,” he says, panting against Carl’s neck.

He feels sick, so fucking sick as Shane settles into him, groaning and moaning against his lips. He freezes, letting the man hurry and finish so he can get the hell away from him before Lori decides to come check on them.

Shane bites hard on his shoulder as he comes, filling Carl with his heat. He continues thrusting, so occupied that he doesn’t notice Carl’s detachment.

“Such a good boy, Carl. You’re so nice and tight,” he says, breath rancid on Carl’s skin. “Now, let’s get you to the shower. Can’t have you looking like this in front of your mom.”

Carl whimpers as Shane lifts him up off the table, his dick still buried deep in him. Carl’s forced to wrap his legs around Shane’s waist in order to not be dropped to the floor. The man carries him to the restroom, not perturbed at all by their nakedness. Carl wonders what Lori would do if she came up and saw them like this.

Shane lets Carl slip off of him in the shower to turn the water on. Carl feels rough hands in his hair, massaging and lathering shampoo all over.

It’s Shane’s own shampoo, the smell of him clinging onto Carl. He misses his father’s smell. Steam suffocates him. Shane rinses the shampoo out before scrubbing him with a body wash and sponge. Carl doesn’t say a word, letting him do as he pleases.

When they’re both finished, Shane pushes him by the shoulders down to kneel before him. His knees ache from pressing onto cold marble.

“Come on, Carl. Be good to daddy.”

He doesn’t hesitate to thrust hard into Carl’s hot mouth. He lets the boy choke and gag.

 

…

 

When they come downstairs, Lori is still pretending to play normal. Carl knows how long they probably took in the shower, not to mention the fact that they’re both damp haired and pink cheeked from the hot water.

Shane is in such a good mood that it terrifies Carl. He keeps smiling and urging Carl to eat more, insisting that he’s getting too thin. As they’re eating, Shane lays a possessive hand on his thigh under the table, causing Carl to jerk, halting his movements momentarily. Lori stops chewing for a second, but she quickly recovers and brings up some other topic to Shane.

Carl pretends to eat, feeling disgusted as he thinks back to the way Shane fucked him on Rick’s desk. Later, when Shane and Lori have retreated into their bedroom (Rick and Lori’s bedroom), Carl empties his stomach into the toilet.

 

…

 

Negan takes him to a carnival for some reason. The weather is bleak and gloomy, but the cotton candy and snow cones taste so refreshing. The man spoils him, accompanying him wherever he runs to. They must have been an odd sight, Carl with his sweet youth and Negan with his leather jacket and southern drawl. Carl holds hands with him, and Negan cooes at the way he allows himself to be a kid with him.

It reminds him of Rick’s absence, the way Negan looks at him and keeps his hand firmly placed on the nape of Carl’s neck. Carl would give anything to have his father here with him.

 

…

 

“Are you alright, Carl?” Enid asks suddenly, trying to look casual as she continues writing in her notebook.

He pauses doing his math homework, looking up at her curiously.

“What do you mean?” He asks, also playing casual.

She shrugs, trying to make it seem like not a big deal, but Carl can see how much it’s bothering her. “I don’t know. You just seem… different lately. I’m worried about you.”

Carl bites the inside of his cheek, tearing his flesh enough to taste blood.

“There’s, uh, nothing going on,” he answers, forcing a smile. “I’ve just been stressed out about school. Sorry for worrying you.”

She shakes her head, finally setting down her pencil to look at him.

“Carl, are you sure? Because it’s not like I can’t see the bruises all over you.”

He swallows thickly, nibbling on his lower lip.

“I’m clumsy.”

She snorts.

“You’re the most composed person I know. You freaking avoided a baseball flying our way that one time.”

He shrugs.

“Honestly, Enid, I’m okay! You don’t have to overthink things,” he says, trying to sooth her suspicions. His heart pounds in his chest. If he just told her, if he confided in her, so much could be different. But he doesn’t; instead, he gently bumps shoulders with her and gives her an encouraging smile. “Thanks, really, I appreciate it.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long time, searching his eyes, before nodding slowly.

“Alright, if you say so.”

He turns back to his work.

She speaks up again. “I hope your dad wakes up soon.”

He simply nods, not trusting his voice.

 

…

 

Shane sees his sullen mood, and Carl is surprised when the man sits with him one evening, holding up a bag of pastries from his favorite shop. The man is smiling warmly, and for a second, Carl is a kid again. His mom is laughing and playfully doting on Rick in the living room. Shane is his hero, bearing gifts everytime he comes over and doing anything Carl wants. The man opens the box for Carl, nudging him to eat something. Carl gingerly fishes out a white peach and basil mille-feuille, his favorite, and takes a small bite.

Shane brushes his hair out of his eyes, tucking a strand behind his ear. Carl offers him a bite. Shane shakes his head, but he leans in to kiss Carl, licking the powdered sugar off his lips. The boy gasps, the mille-feuille falling back onto the counter as Shane wraps his arms around his waist. A moan slips out of him when the man’s hands come up to rub his hips. Just as Shane’s tongue enters his mouth, Lori walks through the front door, eyes catching their movements. Carl jumps and tugs away. Her eyes narrow as she storms over and pulls Shane away from Carl.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Carl realizes that she’s asking him, her tone filled with suspicion. He doesn’t know what to say, and she’s staring at him so hard, he’s afraid to do anything. Thankfully, Shane pulls her away, laughing, making up some believable excuse.

 

…

 

He sees Negan after school now.

It was a sort of an accident the first time. Carl was walking home, feet dragging and sweating from the blazing sun. He didn’t notice Negan’s car until the man honked at him.

_“Negan?” He asked, approaching the classic black vehicle._

_The man had the biggest shit eating grin that Carl’s ever seen. It’s contagious, and he found himself smiling back. “Why are you here?”_

_“Get in, kid, we’re gonna get some pie,” he had said, leaning over to open the car door._

_As Carl got in, a worried expression crossed his face._

_“You’re not gonna kill me right?” He asked. “Cause I still have a math test tomorrow.”_

_Negan hollered with laughter._

From then on, Carl and Negan met up everyday they could. Carl makes sure Shane’s busy before he and Negan go off on their rendezvous. The man is an utter sweetheart, buying Carl whatever he wants and always knowing what to say to cheer Carl up. He doesn’t even seem bothered by the fact that Carl could sometimes be quiet and withdrawn.

He merely tucks Carl against him as he drives and reaches up to pat Carl’s hair. The same way Rick used to.

 

…

 

NEGAN  

 

The first time he sees the kid at the bar, he knew.

It came from experience; Negan had grown up with street fights, after all, and knew the difference between a hickey and a hit mark. The kid had both kinds of bruises. He was a pretty little thing, definitely under age (Negan would have guessed 14 or 15), looking beat and hurt and _angry_. Negan didn’t approach him for the first few months, preferring to only observe from a distance.

He saw the way the men looked at the kid, saw the way the kid soaked up their foul attention. He played a dangerous game with those men, and Negan just knew there was something fueling the kid’s fucked up sexual preferences.

That night, when he finally talked to Carl, he felt a surge of desire accompanied by a need to protect. He wanted to shield the kid from whatever shit was happening at home.

The bruises get darker each time they meet up. Every time, Negan wants to storm into the kid’s fancy ass house and demand to know who was doing this to him. It could be a mother or father, and Negan isn’t sure that it’s not a girlfriend or boyfriend who could be doing this to him.

Carl never stays the night at his place, never even dares to let Negan put so much as a bruise on his body. Negan wants to kill the person responsible for Carl’s fears and anxiousness.

Today, Carl falls asleep against his shoulder as they’re watching some movie at his house. The kid is so pale, so delicate, anyone could have easily mistaken him for a porcelain doll.

It’s not until later that he gets a hint about the monster in Carl’s life.

 

…

 

CARL

 

He kisses Negan first. It’s a Thursday afternoon, and Carl called Negan to pick him up after visiting Rick in the hospital. Negan’s busy with an old car that he’s been trying to start up again. Carl learns that he’s usually good with cars; this one’s just a bit finicky.

It’s cold today, and Carl’s cheeks are wind chafed from a flash blizzard. Negan stands outside in  the snow in only a grease smeared shirt and jeans. He doesn’t seem bothered by the sudden change of weather. Carl scowls, huddling into himself where he’s seated further into the garage. Negan had thrown an oversized fleece lined flannel around his shoulders when he complained of the cold earlier.

“Aw, damn it,” Negan mutters under his breath, sliding back under the car. “Come on, sweetheart, I’m tryna do you a favor.”

Carl rolls his eyes. Of course Negan had a car fetish. By the time another gust of ice and snow blows into the garage, Carl’s had enough. He stands, determinately, and marches over to where Negan’s under the car. He grabs the man’s ankle and slides him out.

“What the- Carl?” he asks, wiping his dirty fingers onto his jeans.

The boy grabs him by the shoulders, gesturing for him to get up. Negan does so, a questioning look on his face. Carl doesn’t hesitate, simply leaning in to close the distance between them. Negan lets out a strangled sound just as their lips meet. Carl circles his arms around Negan’s neck, pulling him close. He feels himself break, and he clings to Negan frantically. Their hot mouths melt together in the cold. Negan gets his act together quickly, strong hands coming up to grip the boy’s hips.

When they both have to pause for air, Negan presses their foreheads together to look him in the eyes. Carl’s lips burn with the lingering warmth of the man’s mouth.

“Is this what you want, Carl?” he breathes, voice raspy and low. Carl nods his head. Negan shakes his. “No, baby, I need to hear it from you.”

“I want this, Negan. I really want this,” he replies.

Negan smiles, kisses his forehead, and they make out again. Carl presses his own weight against Negan, pushing him against the car. Negan cups his face with one hand, chuckling into Carl’s mouth when he swipes a streak of grease onto the boy’s cheek.

The snow around them suddenly seems to not exist.

 

…

 

The next time he visits his father, he finds Nurse Michonne having a quick lunch with a quiet man in a sleeveless Savior jacket. They’re seated on the table next to Rick’s bed. They notice him as soon as he walks in, and Michonne changes out the old flowers with the new ones, as always. Both of them glance at the heavy bruising around his neck and cheek. Shane had been a bit rough last night.

“How’ve you been, Carl?” she asks sweetly, handing him a croissant and a bowl of fresh fruit. He smiles widely at her.

“Good, fine, it’s been okay,” he replies. She rolls her eyes with a doting smile.

“Before you ask, your dad’s been good, fine, _okay_ as usual.”

Carl blushes, peeking over at the new guy. He has a tattoo on his bicep that read “Dixon B.”, and Carl’s sure he’s heard the name somewhere. The guy looks intimidating, but he smiles faintly when he catches Carl looking at him.

“Sorry,” Carl says, tentatively holding out his hand. “I’m Carl. Did you know my dad?”

The guy takes his hand, giving it a firm shake.

“Daryl Dixon. Yeah, I knew him. I’m sorry about the accident.”

Michonne regards their exchange intensely, eyes narrowing at Daryl. She relaxes when they exchange shy smiles. Carl finishes his croissant and goes over to his father’s side. He whispers a hello and kisses Rick’s forehead, holding his large hand in a clammy little palm.

Later, as both he and Daryl are leaving the hospital, he asks if Daryl’s with the Saviors and why he’s never at the bar that Negan’s always at. Daryl looks at him with an odd expression before getting on his motorcycle.

“You should be careful, Carl. That place is dangerous. You’re too young to get mixed up with them.”

When Carl doesn’t say anything, he adds. “Word of advise, kid, if he lays his hands on you again, fuck him up. See ya around.”

He speeds off down the street, leaving Carl wondering if he was talking about Shane or Negan.

 

…

  
He lays over Negan’s body, kissing the man hard. Their hips buckle up to meet in the middle, and Carl groans a little at the sparks of pleasure that pulse through his entire body. Below him, Negan has a blissed out expression, hands on Carl’s hips to guide him. Their lips are swollen from the passionate kissing. Negan slides his hands up, onto Carl’s bare skin where his shirt has slid up. The boy lets out a quiet moan, rolling his hips faster. He’s close, so close.

“Negan,” he huffs between kisses. “Can… can I-.”

The man clasps a hand on his nape. “Of course you can, baby doll. Come for me.”

Carl does, shaking and gasping at the white pleasure. He can feel when Negan orgasms, too, because the man grows thicker and harder against him. He falls flat against him, pressing his nose into the skin behind Negan’s ear to inhale his rich scent. He purrs, making Negan laugh at the vibrations. They lay for a moment, enjoying the afterglow before Negan complains that his “pubes are gluing together”. Carl huffs a tired laugh, getting up to tug the man into the shower with him. He relishes the feeling of Negan’s rough hands running across his skin as cool water rains over them.

 

…

 

Shane picks him up after school one day; Negan is busy with something.

Carl bids farewell to Enid and Ron before trudging over to the patrol car. Shane’s in a nasty mood; Carl can tell by the way he doesn’t say a word. Shane glances over at him a couple times, looking him up and down. Carl knows there’s gonna be trouble when Shane pulls over on the side of a quiet street. Carl doesn’t look at him, fidgeting with his hands.

“I don’t want you to be around that Ron kid,” the man finally speaks. Carl nods before he even fully registers the statement. It’s always better if he agrees with Shane.

The man leans over, grabbing Carl’s face to get him to look up. Carl swallows audibly.

“Get on top of me, Carl. I think you need to be taught a lesson,” he says, voice hard.

Carl trembles. “What about patrolling?”

“I’m off the rest of the day, so don’t think you’re going anywhere.”

He yanks Carl over to his side, holding the boy in his lap. The steering wheel digs painfully into Carl’s back. Shane pulls his pants down and unzips his own. Carl wills himself to not cry, but his body has other ideas. He can’t stop thinking about Negan’s hands, Negan’s lips, Negan’s eyes. Shane shouldn’t be touching him like this. Shane makes him sink down on him, and Carl winces at the stretch. The man grabs him by the ass to maneuver his pace, moving him up and down fast. Just as Shane’s about to come, a female voice filters through the radio.

“Office Walsh?” she asks.

The man curses and grabs his speaker mic, sitting up. Carl whimpers at the angle.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he replies.

“We’re sorry to bother you right now, but there’s been some fighting at a local bar. Someone called in for assault,” she says. “You’re the only one close enough to the place. Would you mind checking it out?”

Shane shoves Carl off of him, zipping up his pants.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there soon,” he says, voice light despite the glare he shoots at Carl. The boy pulls on his discarded pants and boxers.

“Thanks, Walsh. Call if you need backup.”

Once he puts down the mic, he heads towards the bar.

“This isn’t fucking over, Carl. We’re gonna finish this later,” he snarls, reaching over to grab a fistfull of Carl’s hair.

“I got it,” Carl says, biting his lip.

The bar is similar to the biker bar that Negan likes to hang out in. There’s people running out of the bar in fear. Judging by the girls with short skirts and men with tattoos and cigarettes, this isn’t a nice place. Shane pulls up to it with a sour expression. “Fucking Saviors again.” He turns to Carl.

“You stay in the car until I get back. This is a dangerous area, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” His eyes soften a little as he brushes a curl out of Carl’s eyes. Carl almost laughs at the irony.

He watches Shane approach the place with his hand on his gun. He shouts something into the open door before going in. More muffled yelling can be heard inside. Carl takes a moment to look around him, at the lines of bikes in the parking lot. The people outside are talking worriedly, when suddenly, there’s the sound of a gunshot. Carl jolts, getting out of the car. His eyes are immediately drawn to a beautiful sleek black motorcycle by the side of the entrance. The gold engravings on the side and matte seat are tell tale signs enough. He rushes into the bar, worried that either Shane or Negan might have been killed by the bullet. He’s greeted by the sight of Negan smiling irritatedly at Shane, who has a gun on him. They’re sizing each other up. A flickering neon sign behind Negan indicates where the bullet has gone.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Negan,” Shane yells. “Put your goddamn hands where I can see them!”

Carl quickly moves between them, his back to Negan. Both men take a step back, staring at him in surprise.

“Shane, stop this,” he says, keeping his eyes on Shane.

“I thought I told you to stay in the fucking car!” Shane growls, alternating pointing the gun at Carl and Negan, trying to figure out the situation.

“Carl? Why are you here?” Negan asks, voice impossibly soft. Then he stops, looking between the two. “You know this asswipe?”

“You know _him_?” Shane hollers at Carl. “Why do you know him?”

Shane aims his gun at him again. Carl doesn’t even turn around to glance at Negan, focused only on Shane. His hand comes up, shakedly, to touch Shane’s wrist.

“Shane, please lower the gun,” he pleads, moving one hand behind him to squeeze Negan’s arm. Negan’s hand automatically grips his, not letting him go. “I- I’ll explain everything later, okay? Just lower the gun.”

In the corner of Carl’s eye, he sees a table of beautiful women watching him intently. They look fierce, unafraid, just sitting there while everyone else runs out. He notices their pink Savior leather jackets.

Shane does, fortunately, lower the gun, eyes still trained on them. Carl tugs his hand out of Negan’s so Shane doesn’t see it and misunderstand. The man lays a hand on Carl’s chest and pushes him off to the side.

“You better run along, punk,” Shane spits into Negan’s face. “I’m here to arrest Dixon, not you.”

Carl’s heart thumps at the name, and he looks around to see if Daryl’s here, but the only people still around are the ladies, a bloody faced dangerous looking man, and two passed out men on the ground. Carl concludes that the bloody man must be Dixon. The guy winks at him. Shane must have noticed the exchange because the next thing Carl knows, he grabs the guy and pins him against the bar table.

“You sick fuck,” Shane says, handcuffing him. “He’s only 15!”

Dixon laughs, spitting out a stream of blood, his eyes still on Carl. “I like ‘em young. Always nice and tight. Haven’t been corrupted yet.”

Shane grabs him by the neck and slams his head into the table. “Shut the hell up. I took you as a troublemaker, not a fucking pedophile.”

Carl clenches his hands into fists, internally screaming at the irony. Negan shakes his head, moving closer.

“Walsh, you fucking take him and you know what the words on the streets are gonna be,” he says, eyes leveled and calm. “You’re breaking turf rules.”

Shane ignores him, pulling the Dixon guy with him to the car. Carl makes sure he can hear the two outside before he rushes into Negan’s arms, kissing him hard. The man smiles softly at him, cradling his head in his palm and kissing him tenderly. Carl peppers kisses from his jaw to his ear, feeling his stubble rub against his soft skin. Negan’s hands move up and down his back to try and soothe him. Carl pulls back to study him, taking in Negan’s dark eyes, soft lips, and smile lines. He kisses him again, letting the man hold him until they hear Shane’s approaching steps. They break apart just as he comes storming in.

“Carl, get in the damn car,” he calls, stepping back into the bar. Carl gives Negan another look before going outside. He can hear Shane telling Negan that the ambulance has been called for the two guys on the ground. Only a couple of people are left, whispering and looking at Carl as he climbs into the police car.

“I’m Merle. You’re Rick’s kid, right?” the Dixon guy says behind him. Carl turns around to face him.  

“Yeah, so what?” he asks. Merle doesn’t look too good. His temple is bleeding, right along with his nose, which looked a bit off center. He must have lost a tooth or something because blood kept streaming out of his mouth.

“You got a mouth on you, kid,” he says, smiling. Carl thinks he would have been handsome if he cleaned himself up. “I like that.”

Carl digs into his backpack to pull out a pack of tissues. He pushes the plexiglass window open just enough to put the tissue packet through.

“Take it,” he says. “You’re bleeding a lot.”

Merle raises an eyebrow. Before Carl can react, he grips his hand and tugs hard. Carl yelps, crying out when his cheek hits the barrier. His arm, up to his shoulder, is pulled through the window. Merle smells his palm and fingers, dragging his tongue up his wrist. Carl squirms, trying to get loose, but his shoulder is starting to ache.

“You smell fucking nice,” he says, lapping at Carl’s flesh. “I like when my girls taste sweet.”

Carl hears a shout somewhere, and then Shane’s opening the back door and punching Merle across the face. Carl pulls his arm back, shaking off the pain.

“You motherfucker,” Shane says, hitting him over and over. When he’s satisfied by the blood that’s now pouring from Merle’s nose, he slams the door shut and gets into the driver’s seat. He tugs the glass barrier shut and reaches for Carl, brushing hair from his face and massaging his arm. He pulls off Carl’s jacket and tugs down his shirt collar to reveal a huge patch of red and purple bruising that’s just beginning to form.

“Fuck, baby,” he says and notices the bruising on Carl’s cheek. “Aggravated assault, attacking a minor with malicious intent? You’re fucked now, Dixon.”

Merle only laughs. Shane slams his fist against the glass.

Carl doesn’t pay much any more attention to them, barely noticing Negan at the entrance of the bar.

 

…

 

Shane still fucks him that night, gripping his shoulder to make him cry out in pain. Carl pants into his pillow, muffling his screams so Shane doesn’t get even more pissed. The man is relentless, pushing into his body without so much as a finger for prep. Lori called a while ago to tell them that she was going to go drinking with her friends. Shane had been more than pleased.

Carl bites his wrist at a particularly hard thrust. Shane wraps a hand around his throat.

“You wanna make daddy happy, Carl?” he asks, not waiting for an answer. “Swallow everything I give you.”

He pulls out, jerking Carl off the bed and onto his knees on the ground. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulling Carl’s head to him. The boy gags as his mouth is filled with the heedy taste of Shane and himself. Shane doesn’t wait before pushing all the way down Carl’s throat.

“Like that, baby, just like that.”

Carl wills himself to not vomit, forcing his gag reflex to relax. He shakes, body way too strained to be doing this right now. He lets Shane manhandle him, thrusting in and out of his throat.

“Swallow around me,” Shane commands, and Carl complies. Tears falling out of the corners of his eyes.

Later that evening, when Shane prepares to bend him over the kitchen counter, Carl’s stomach turns. He stumbles into the bathroom, unaware of his surroundings. He falls against the toilet, letting out all the contents in his stomach. Shane comes up beside him, tugging his hair out of his face and rubbing circles into his back. Carl retches again and again until his throat is raw and his stomach is completely empty. Shane doesn’t do anything else to him for the rest of the night.

 

…

 

Negan doesn’t question him about Shane. Carl just tells him that he’s a family friend, Rick’s partner in the sheriff's department. Negan reveals that Rick and Shane arrested him a while ago for being the head of the Saviors. He also kisses Carl’s bruises and apologizes for Merle’s assault.

“What happened to him?” Carl asks, curling into Negan’s embrace. They’re on Negan’s bed, lazing around. Negan scowls.

“That son of a bitch is out of the Saviors,” he says. “His _current_ girlfriend bailed him out, I think.”

Carl nods, unable to say more. Negan just holds him tight.

 

…

 

Lori staggers in one afternoon, completely drunk, and collapses on the couch. Carl tries to wake her up, ask her if she needs anything, but she is unresponsive. He goes back to doing his homework at the kitchen counter, checking on her every half an hour to see if she had woken up.

By the time she actually wakes up, it’s past supper time, and Shane’s already called Carl about his night shift. Carl keeps the lights dim and mops at her brow with a cold towel. She blinks out of her daze and sits up, squinting at him.

“What are you doing?” she ask, speech slurred to indicate that she’s still drunk out of her mind. “Where’s Shane?”

Carl sets the towel down on the table.

“You’re burning up; I wanted to help,” he replies. “Shane’s on night duty.”

She nods slowly, sinking back down.

“...can I get you anything?” Carl asks after a short pause. “Soup? Painkillers?”

“No, just… let me sleep,” she says, eyes closed. He turns to head upstairs to get ready for bed when she calls out to him. “Carl.”

“Yeah, mom?”

“I’m going to New York during spring break for the nursing event,” she says, still not looking at him. Carl freezes. “You’re gonna stay here with Shane. I’ll be back the week after break.”

He shakes his head in disbelief.

“You’re leaving us here? You- you can’t leave me here with _him_ ,” he says, words coming out too rushed, too shaky.

Her eyes snap open, and she gets up to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m leaving. So what? Shane will be here. It’s not like you even need me,” she spits. He’s stunned by her sour words.

“Please, mom, you can’t do this. Not now, not when Dad’s-”

She moves closer to him, eyes wild.

“Rick’s not gonna wake up, Carl! When will you ever get the hint! He’s never going to come back!” she cries, scaring him. “Don’t try and act like you care about him! Not when you’re doing the shit you’re doing.”

“What are you talking about? How can you say that? Mom, you’re drunk,” he stutters, taking a step back from her.

She scoffs, pointing a manicured nail into his chest. He backs up until he hits the wall. “I know what you do behind my back, Carl Grimes. Don’t play stupid with me.”

He shakes his head, eyes wide. “Behind your back?”

She points her finger into his face.

“You’re a sinful boy, a _depraved, immoral_ boy. I can’t believe I raised such a bad child.”

“Mom, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please.”

She grabs him by the shoulders so hard that her nails dig into his skin. “You and _Shane_. I know what you did with him, what you’re still doing with him. Does it make you happy? That you seduced my lover? Are you proud of yourself?”

Carl frantically shakes his head. “No, Mom. Shane forced me. Shane forced himself onto me. _I swear!”_

She shakes him roughly, looking so deranged. Carl can smell the alcohol on her.

“You fucking liar! You let him into your bed. Of course he couldn’t resist you, a pretty young thing like you,” she rambles, slamming him into the wall. “How many other men did you sleep with? How many other men did you let into your _filthy_ body?”

Carl sobs, so beyond terrified that he sinks down to the floor the moment she lets go of him.

“You don’t need me here. I’m doing you a favor. Fuck Shane as much as you like while I’m gone.”

She slams her bedroom door shut, effectively blocking out his sobs.

 

…

 

Spring break comes faster than expected. Lori leaves without so much as a word to Carl. Carl visits his father more often now, always surprised to find Daryl there as well. He learns from Michonne that he’s there every day because he “owes everything” to Rick. Carl doesn’t pry further on what that could mean. He’s just grateful that there’s someone to keep an eye on Rick.

Negan swings by his house at noon to take him to meet some friends of his. Carl is, once again, reminded of the fact that Negan is the leader of a very powerful gang. It’s something that he always forgets, seeing as how the man is always so different with him. He’s quiet today, still shaken up by his mom’s words. Negan seems to notice right away, trying to silently comfort him. He caresses Carl’s hair, kisses the boy gently, and rubs the back of his neck while he’s driving.

At times, when Negan does something familiar, Carl finds himself aching for his father’s touch.

“... they’re really good friends. If they do something you don’t like, don’t be afraid to call them out about it. They’re tough people. You’ll like ‘em,” Negan continues saying, holding open the diner door for Carl to step in first.

He’s surprised that the so called “good friends” turn out to be the same group of beautiful women he saw at the bar when Merle was arrested. They coo over him, complementing his hair and skin and eyes and smile. The diner they’re at has a very old school vibe, the decor making it seem like they’re in 60’s time warp.

“I’m Frankie, this is Tanya, Amber, and Sherry,” the redheaded woman says, giving him a hug.

Carl likes them immediately; their laughter is contagious. Sherry orders a BLT for him, along with curly fries and a large ice cream soda. Negan keeps him close against his side, analyzing their exchanges with a small smile.

“There’s a couple more people coming, kid, if you’re alright with that?” he asks, lips pressed against Carl’s earlobe. Carl bites his lower lip and nods.

“Sure, that’s fine,” he says, smiling sweetly when Negan nips at his neck.

The ladies giggle.

“You two are freaking cute,” Amber says, laughing. “And to think that Negan was the biggest asshole all those years ago.”

“ _Yes_ ! From asshole Negan to nice Negan? _Unbelievable_ ,” Tanya adds.

Carl raises his eyebrows. “Asshole Negan? When was this?”

The ladies cackle.

“In high school, he was the biggest scumbag in school. Always playing the girls and messing around with the teachers. He’s the rudest, craziest sonofabitch I’ve ever dated,” Sherry says, rolling her eyes when Negan glares at her.

Carl smiles wide. “Still sounds the same to me.”

Tanya toasts him with her beer; Amber and Frankie lose it.

Later, as they’re about to go, the girls cuddle up to Negan with sweet farewells. Sherry leans down to hug him. She’s breathtaking up close, and Carl hates to think that he once thought that about his mother. Sherry smells like spices and honey.

“No one should ever hit you,” she whispers into his ear, drawing away as if nothing happened.

Carl stares at her, suddenly terrified that she’s going to tell Negan. But she simply smiles, hugs Negan, and bids them goodbye. Negan helps him climb into the car.

 

…

 

Shane wakes him up with fruit and french toast. Carl blinks the sleep from his eyes and takes the food with a soft thanks. The man smiles and brushes his hair back the way he used to when Carl was young. Carl hesitates, not used to Shane’s change of mood. The man takes him to a nearby lake to go fishing and swimming, like they used to when he was younger.

Carl is on edge the whole day, wondering when he would snap. But Shane doesn’t, simply letting him do whatever he wants. For lunch, they go to a familiar diner; the waitress has known them since Carl was born. Shane doesn’t do a single off putting thing, not a hand on his thigh, not a tight lipped smile, not a kiss to his lips.

Even that night, as they’re slipping into bed together, Shane takes him gently into his arms. Carl holds his breath, trying to ready himself for anything that might happen. Shane kisses his brow and doesn’t do anything more.

 

…

 

Shane’s odd behavior continues for the next couple of days. He doesn’t even protest about Carl going to visit Rick in the hospital. He turns a blind eye when he sees Rick’s wedding band still around Carl’s neck. In fact, he doesn’t seem to get mad at anything that he would normally. Carl hates the way he’s acting even more than when he’s mad. He’d rather Shane just fuck him and leave him alone.

Michonne and Daryl are always happy to see him. She kisses his cheeks and gives him half her lunch because she can tell that he’s getting too thin. Daryl’s conversations are generally amusing. Carl learns that Rick helped him out a couple years back when Daryl was in a rough patch. He’s glad that the man cares about Rick enough to always be visiting.

That day, when Carl gets back home, he prepares some dinner for Shane when he gets off from duty. Carl tends to his lilacs all afternoon, taking in the soft sunshine and cool breeze. The small purple flowers are flourishing, so lovely and dainty in his hands and all over his clothes. He doesn’t notice Shane approaching him where he’s bent over, trimming a bush.

The man pushes him onto the grass next to the lilacs, kissing his neck. Carl whines, choking back a cry when Shane starts running his hands up and down his body. He whispers sweet nothings into Carl’s ear. He realizes that the man’s trying to be romantic, like they’re dating or something just as sickening. Shane prepares him thoroughly, and Carl’s afraid someone will see them doing this out here in the garden. Shane goes slowly, letting him have time to adjust to the stretch. Carl tears up when a lilac flower drifts down onto his cheek.

He apologizes to Rick as Shane grunts and comes inside of him.

 

…

 

Lori doesn’t call. She doesn’t even send him a single text to ask how he’s doing. He gets over it.

He makes sure Shane’s fast asleep before sneaking out the back door to meet Negan, who’s sitting on his motorcycle with a huge grin on his face.

“Well, look at you, cutiepie,” he says as Carl climbs onto the seat behind him. Carl laughs, hugging his torso tight. They speed off. Negan tells him about some firefly sightseeing thing in the mountains, and Carl happily agrees.

They have a nice night; Carl curls up against Negan’s chest when they’re surrounded by tiny flickering fireflies. It’s cold and calming; Negan smells like Rick. Carl presses his lips onto Negan’s neck, suckling a little bruise there. The man swats at him, laughing loudly. He gives his leather jacket to Carl when it gets too chilly.

It’s nearly four in the morning when they get back to Carl’s house. He gets off the motorcycle hesitantly, not wanting to part so soon. Negan kisses him, smiling wide as he licks into the boy’s mouth. Carl lets out a delighted squeal when the man swiftly lifts him onto his lap by his armpits and presses him between the bike’s handlebars. He giggles as Negan leans down to nuzzle and nip at his jawline and neck.

“God, honey,” he rasps, deep voice rumbling through Carl’s body.

Carl wraps his legs around the man’s waist, holding him in place. He lets out another giggle when Negan starts pressing hundreds of tiny pecks all over his face. The man’s smiling at his glee, chuckling at the way he squirms and wiggles closer. Carl lets him do as he pleases, chest hurting from all the happiness. Negan presses his fingers against his little dimples.

“You’re so damn cute, Carl,” he says, eyes getting all gooey and soft. Carl pulls him down for another final kiss.

He waves until Negan disappears into the distance. He’s still smiling as he opens the back door.

Everything dissolves when he comes face to face with an eerily calm Shane. His mouth falls slack, and he backs up instinctively, cold sweat breaking out all over his body. The man just eyes him up and down, eyes lingering on his neck and the leather jacket draped over his shoulders. Carl realizes that there must have been some hickies left by Negan.

“Shane, I can-” he begins, cut off when Shane takes a step forward, shaking his head.

He’s not looking Carl in the eyes, but it’s obvious just how mad he really is. He keeps coming closer until Carl’s back hits the wall.

“You’re a Savior whore now?” he asks, so so softly. He reaches up to pull the jacket off of Carl, studying the obvious designs on it. He throws it to one side. Carl swallows audibly.

“No, I- I’m not,” he says, pleadingly. “Shane, please. I’m not doing anything like that.”

The man boxes him in his arms.

“I saw you, Carl. _I saw you._ Don’t fucking lie to me,” he says, voice getting louder. Carl flinches when he suddenly pounds on the wall next to his head. “I should have shot him, the moment I saw him putting his dirty hands on you. I should have...”

“It’s my fault, I swear,” Carl begs. “I kissed him first-”

“So you’ve been seeing him? You’ve been playing me all this time? How long? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I- we… it’s not-”

“I should have known you were doing this behind my back,” Shane says, leaning close enough to Carl that the tips of their noses brush. Carl’s breaths come out fast and rough. There’s no alcohol on Shane’s breath; he’s completely sober, and Carl knows that whatever he’s about to do to him will be completely voluntary. “Why him, Carl? Why that piece of shit? Is he bigger? Does he know all the spots that make you fall apart? Can he make you come on only his dick?”

Carl shakes his head, suddenly at loss of words. Shane grips his neck, squeezing hard.

“Why are you gonna make me do this, Carl? You know I don’t want to hurt you.”

With that, he punches Carl hard in the gut before throwing him onto the ground, not letting Carl register the pain before climbing on top of him.

“I give you everything. I treat you like goddamn gold, and this is what I get in return?” He hollers, backhanding the boy. Carl shudders from the pain.

“You’re a psycho, Shane. Everything you do is deluded. You think I’m enjoying it, but you’re just a rapist and a pedophile,” he says, spitting out a large amount of blood. There’s tears flowing down his face.

Shane’s eyes are murderous as he grips Carl by the hair to look him in the face. “What did you just say?”

Carl grimaces in pain.

“You are a _rapist_ and _pedophile_. If you think it’s okay to do what you do to me, you’re insane,” he says, this time with more conviction. He’s probably going to get beat hard for it, but he’s tired. “I hate you, for everything you did to me. I’ll never forgive you for tearing my family apart and raping me that night.”

He’s stunned by the sudden hard hit across his mouth. His lip tears, dripping blood down his chin.

“You shut the hell up!” Shane yells, kicking him in the ribs. “I’m a rapist? You ungrateful fuck! I took care of you and Lori after Rick almost got himself killed. You should be thanking me. You think Negan’s any better? He’s a murderer and a drug lord. You want him to put his hands on you instead?”

Carl stills for a second, dread filling him. Negan was no such thing… was he?

“You _should_ be doubting him. He’s nothing compared to me. And you go accusing me of this shit? You’re going to regret everything you just said,” he says, hands curling around Carl’s thin neck. “You fucking slut, calling me a pedophile? You think anyone is going to believe you? Everyone will believe _me_ , even your daddy.”

Carl struggles, kicking at him. He’s sobbing, completely shaken. Shane’s cutting off his air supply fast, and Carl starts seeing black at the edges of his vision. The last thing he registers is Shane ripping off his clothes and then pain, pain, pain.

 

…

 

He doesn’t remember much of what happened that night. Shane will later taunt him about crying for Rick afterwards.

 

…

 

NEGAN

 

He doesn’t hear from Carl for over a week. His calls go straight to voicemail, his texts are never answered. The kid’s spring break is already over, but Negan never even catches a glimpse of the kid after school. He knows the mom, Lori, is still out in New York. Shane is the only one looking after him. By the end of the week after break, Negan gets so worried that he drives over to the Grimes residence. After making sure there’s no neighbors around or any cars in Carl’s driveway, he hops up the steps of the porch and knocks on the door. Silence. He knocks again, louder. The door swings open, and Negan literally sways on his feet at the sight on the kid.

He’s pale, eyes sunken. Bruises litter his face and neck and wrists. There’s not a hint of the youthful boyish blush on his cheeks. He’s wearing a plain white shirt and boxers. His hair is disheveled, looking limp and less glossy than usual. His expression is blank, desensitized. Negan falls to one knee, getting to the boy’s level to cup his face. Carl’s eyes grow wide, and he flinches away from his touch.

“Carl, baby,” he splutters, still shocked. “What happened? Who did this?”

Anger rushes into his senses. “Who the hell did this? I’ll fucking kill them.”

Carl shakes his head, pushing him away.

“Negan, please leave,” he begs, rapidly glancing out the door at the still empty driveway.

The man frowns deeply. “Carl, someone _beat you_. I’m not leaving until I find them and kill them.”

Carl turns to him with tear filled eyes.

“I’m serious, Negan. You have to go before he-” He breaks himself off, brows furrowing as he doubles over clutching his ribs. Negan reaches for him, but Carl moves away again, to his dismay.

And then it clicks. Negan grabs him by his arms, alarm in his eyes.

“ _He_? Shane? Is Shane the one who’s been doing this to you?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Carl doesn’t look at him, doesn’t react. The tears in his eyes threaten to fall. All the feelings in Negan’s chest explode. He releases Carl and turns back to the front door.

“Fuck! He is so fucking dead. Where is that son of a bitch? When I get my hands on him-!”

Carl grabs him before he can step outside, holding him tight.

“Please don’t do anything, Negan. It’s my fault; I made him mad. Please don’t,” he pleads. “I should have been more careful.”

“Are you serious, Carl? You know what he’s been doing is wrong. Look at you! Look at what he’s done to you!” Negan yells, frustrated. Carl flinches, moving back in fear. Negan regrets raising his voice the moment he sees Carl’s reaction. He still doesn’t meet Negan’s eyes. He doesn’t even say a word. Negan wants to shake some sense into him.

“Leave, Negan,” he finally says, voice delicate. “Please get out of my house.”

Negan growls.

“Get out of your house? Leave you alone so that monster can come back here and what? Hit you? Strangle you?” he says, voice bitter. “Like hell I will!”

“Just leave. Like you could ever understand?” Carl shouts. He shoves Negan now, as if he hadn’t been the one holding him back earlier.

“So that’s all you’re going to do? Push me away and pretend like you can handle it? We all see that you’re not, Carl!” They’re fucking yelling at each other, and all Negan wants to do is kiss him and hug him and take him far away from here.

Carl pushes him out the door, panting in pain.

“Don’t do anything to him, Negan. Please.”

With that, he slams the door shut.

 

…

 

CARL

 

Shane finally lets him go back to school after another week. There’s still bruises all over his body, but the ones on his face and neck have relatively healed. Enid and Ron express their worries, but he brushes them off like he usually does. His mother’s back from her trip, but he avoids her like the plague. She must have seen the bruises, though.

That morning, as drags himself out of bed, his whole body aches with pain. He pushes back the memories of what Shane has done to him over the last two weeks. He doesn’t want to think about it; he doesn’t want to remember anything. He decides to visit Negan and apologize for being so rude when he came to see him. After school, he goes straight to Negan’s house, knocking a couple times before Negan opens the door with a surprised look.

“Negan,” he says. “May I come in?”

The man steps aside to let him in. He gives Carl a glass of iced sweet tea. They sit in the living room, Carl on the couch and Negan in an armchair. It’s a bit awkward; Negan is as tense as he is.

“I’m sorry about last week,” he says. “I wasn’t acting like myself. I was rude to you.”

Negan doesn’t say anything, studying him intently. Carl takes a deep breath before continuing.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Negan. Shane and I…” He swallows, trying to get rid of the bitterness in his mouth. “I let him hit me because I like it.”

Carl grits his teeth. Negan’s expression remains neutral.

“You like it,” Negan repeats.

“Yeah. I let him do it,” he says.

The man shakes his head. “Carl, you don’t have to lie to protect him.”

“I’m not.”

“Kid…”

“I let him do what he wants because I want it.”

“You let him hit you and choke you until you bleed and bruise?”

“I’m a fucked up person.”

He knows Negan’s angry; he can see the vein on his temple throb. The man gets up and approaches him. Carl frowns, moving away. Negan grabs him.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” he demands, eyes unreadable. “Do you even understand what you’re doing?”

Carl yelps when Negan pushes him down into the cushions.

“You’re telling me that you like it when he roughs you up. That you’re some… slut for pain,” Negan says, getting more and more fierce with each word. “Would you like it if I started acting like Shane? If you’re telling the truth, why don’t I try it? Wouldn’t you just love it?”

Carl gasps when Negan straddles him, pulling at the collar of his shirt. He tugs Carl’s shirt off, moving down to slip Carl out of his pants and boxers. The boy cries out, struggling underneath him.

“Is this what you like, Carl? Should I hit you?”

Carl sobs, trying to cover himself. His ribs and thighs are still black and blue with bite marks and bruises. He sees Negan flinch at the sight of them.

“Negan,” he cries. “Please stop.”

The man grabs his chin, making him look up.

“You told me this is what you want, right? Why should I stop?” he asks, pushing apart Carl’s legs to settle between them. Carl’s shaking so bad, tears streaming down his face. If Negan… does it, then Carl’s not sure what he’d do.

“No, Negan. I’m sorry; I’m so sorry,” he rants, covering his eyes with his arm. He falls limp. If Negan’s going to do him, Carl’s not going to fight him. But the man doesn’t, getting off of him and rushing off somewhere. Carl thinks he can hear the man retching.

He forces himself to calm down before pulling on his clothes and grabbing his bag. He leaves as fast as he can, not wanting to think about what almost happened.

 

…

 

Carl is aware of Enid’s worried gaze all week. He doesn’t really say much to anyone. At school, he keeps to himself, only speaking when he’s called on. He skips lunch to sit in the back field, away from everyone else. At home, he stays holed up in his room, only coming out to do the chores and make food for the three of them. Lori doesn’t ask after him, only speaking to Shane as sweetly as ever. Shane ignores him during the day and fucks him hard at night, always leaving marks and reminding him of who he belongs to.

He doesn’t call Negan; he doesn’t think about Negan. Just the thought of the man makes his hands clammy with fear. He visits Rick every week, still. Michonne and Daryl seem to always want to say something to him every time he comes to the hospital. She gives him ointment for the “clumsy” bruises. Her embraces are always warm and comforting.

“Hi, Dad, I’m back,” he says, pecking the man on the forehead. “I hope you like the lilacs I picked today. They’re really blooming, now that they’re getting more sun.”

When Michonne and Daryl step out of the room, he drops the easygoing act and starts to cry.

“I’m sorry I’m always crying when I come here. I’m just so happy to see you,” he sobs, bending over on his seat to press his face into the bed. “I love you so much, Dad. When you wake up, I’m going to show you how much I love you. I’ll cook you whatever you want, I’ll garden with you, I’ll even go to the station to bring you lunch. I swear.”

He reaches up to caress a lock of Rick’s curly brown hair.

“I just want you back, daddy. I need you. I know I say this everytime I’m here, but I need you so bad right now.”

He sniffles, wiping his eyes.

“I have nothing without you. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to fight anymore. If you never wake up, then I don’t even want to live, Dad.”

Carl takes a deep breath, scrubbing at his face. He bites his lower lip raw.

“I’m talking nonsense again, sorry. Of course I have to live. I can’t miss the moment you wake up,” he says, smiling weakly. “I love you. Please wake up for me.”

He kisses Rick again as he gets up to leave, this time on the lips. Michonne orders Daryl to give him a ride home. Both of them obey her command. Daryl drops him off a block away from his house. He pats Carl’s head and gives him soft look.

“If Rick saw you now, he’d be proud,” he offers. Carl tries not to cry again. “He’s gonna wake up, Carl. Don’t worry.”

He gives Daryl a hug.

 

…

 

After Shane finally climaxes and falls asleep against him, Carl pushes him off and gets up to get a glass of water. His hair’s a mess, and his skin is overheating. He puts on one of Rick’s sweaters, an oversized thing, and limps downstairs. He’s surprised by Lori, who seems to have just gotten back from work. It’s around two in the morning. Carl looks flushed and freshly fucked. She hesitates. Carl ignores her and gets his water. He takes a couple gulps and sets the rest of it down on the counter before limping off towards the stairs.

He can feel her eyes on him, on the terrible bruises, but she doesn’t say a word. For the first time in his life, he wishes that she would go to hell.

 

…

 

After school, Carl notices Negan’s Chevy Impala parked across the street. He heads the opposite direction just as Negan sees him. He takes another way home rather than the normal one just to be safe. He doesn’t answer Negan’s calls or texts.

 

…

 

He finds the leather jacket hung up in his closet; maybe Lori put it in there. It still smells like Negan; there’s a whiff of something spicy sweet, like cinnamon or cardamom, balanced out by the thick scent of tobacco and musk. He nearly sobs as he clutches the jacket to his chest. It’s such a comforting thing, even if the man is not here with him.

 

…

 

Carl goes to the fancy men’s boutique that Rick used to go to buy another bottle of Rick’s signature cologne. Carl used up the last bottle. The woman who works there, Rosita, recognizes him and gives him another bottle for free in condolences. She tells him that she understands his need to wear Rick’s cologne.

At dinner, Carl’s sure Lori and Shane can smell the scent on him. Neither of them comment on it.

 

…

 

He starts seeing other people again. The familiarity of casual sex helps Carl forget the feeling of Shane’s body on his; he can just focus on the physical sensations of the act. The saltiness of sweat on hot skin, the sounds from his partner, the scent of their fluids.

Carl even switched bars, going to some other trendier place so Negan wouldn’t be there. Carl misses the man, even more than he would like to admit, but he’s still shaken by their last encounter.

On a certain night, Carl stumbles upon Merle Dixon. He looks better than the first time they met; he is rather good looking. The man recognizes him instantly, slinking away from a large group of women to meet him. Carl doesn’t particularly like him, remembering how strong he had come onto Carl before.

“It’s a surprise to see you here, precious,” Merle has to holler over the music to be heard, grinding against the boy. Carl shrugs.

“Back at you. Why aren’t you at the biker bar or something?” he asks back.

Merle slides closer, arms hooking around Carl’s waist.

“My girls wanted to come here so I came with them.”

Carl eases him off.

“So go to your girls,” he says dismissively.

“Hell, they’re nothing compared to you,” Merle says, laughing.

He gives the man a cold look.

“You nearly broke my arm when we met,” Carl reminds him. Merle strokes his cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You made me lose my mind; you’re so pretty.”

Carl scoffs, letting the man cup his ass. Merle inhales his scent, groaning.

“Come with me?” he asks, fingers barely slipping past Carl’s boxer band. “I’ll treat you so good, make you happy.”

Carl nods before he even finishes the sentence. Merle kisses him, tongue and all. Carl lets him, eyes glazed over. He escorts Carl out of the club and around back to the parking lot. Just as they’re about to get into Merle’s car, someone grabs him by the arm and jerks him back. Carl can’t even blink before Negan’s on Merle, fists swinging.

“He’s mine, Merle. Everyone knows it, but you’re still gonna fucking try this shit?” Negan yells, punching him over and over again. Carl reacts then, moving between them. He grabs Negan’s wrists, pushing him off. The man doesn’t resist him, letting Carl move him away. Carl helps Merle stand, bracing him against his car.

“You should go,” he tells Merle. The man purses his lips, looking like he wants to fight.

“Whatever,” Merle growls. He spits a glob of spit and blood at Negan’s foot. “You’re not pretty enough to be worth my time anyways.”

Carl has to hold Negan back from lunging at the man. Negan snarls after Merle as he drives off.

“Why are you here?” Carl demands, suddenly light headed.

Negan’s anger morphs into sorrow.

“Carl, baby, I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t even know how much I hate myself for what I did,” he says, looking conflicted. Carl wishes Negan would just hug him already. Seeing the man here is all too much to bear. “I miss you so much. I think about you all the damn time. I feel like shit because I left you alone to deal with Shane. I should have been there.”

Carl doesn’t say anything, letting him continue.

“I swear to God, I will never do this shit to you again. I really fucking love you, and I can’t see you hurt. Please, forgive me, Carl.”

His heart clenches at that, and he wonders how Negan can love someone like him. The man keeps talking, ranting really. Negan doesn’t need to ask forgiveness; Carl had forgiven him the moment after.

“Negan,” he interrupts. “Just kiss me.”

The man throws himself at him, warm lips pressing against Carl’s. It’s a soft kiss, filled with desperation and desire. Negan holds him close, cradling him.

 

…

 

They don’t have sex. Negan just brings him to his house, and they curl up in his bed. Carl knows Shane will be pissed that he went out again, but he needs Negan’s comfort more than anything. He’ll take the beating in the morning. Negan asks him about Shane only once the entire night.

“Carl?” he asks into the darkened room. Neither of them can sleep. Carl hums. “Did Shane- did he… rape you?”

Carl freezes, images and sensations flashing through his head. He makes himself take a deep breath before answering with a simple, “yes”.

He can feel Negan nodding. “Sherry told me.”

Carl nods. There’s silence again for a moment.

“I assaulted you on the couch. I’m so sorry,” Negan says. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Carl replies. “I know you weren’t gonna do anything.”

Negan’s the type to cry silently, and if Carl hadn’t felt the wetness of tears on his face, he wouldn’t have even known that the man was crying. Alarmed, he turns around to hug Negan to his chest. The man grips him tight, face hidden in the curve of his neck.

“You’re such a strong kid, Carl. You’re so perfect. I love you.”

Carl swallows thickly.

“I love you, too.”

 

…

 

Shane strangles him for spending the night with Negan. Carl had expected it to happen. He doesn’t go easy on Carl that night.

“You go near him again, Carl, and I will get his ass sent to prison faster than you can say his fucking name,” he threatens, quickening his pace to get Carl to cry out. He seems to get more angry when Carl doesn’t react at all. “You little whore. Does he make you scream like I can?”

Carl doesn’t respond, clenching his teeth to not make a sound. Shane growls in frustration. He pulls Carl up by his hair and holds him against the headboard so he looks Shane in the eyes.

“I’m serious, Carl. If I so much as _think_ that you’re seeing Negan, I will cut off Rick’s ventilator and make it seem like he died in his fucking sleep,” he snarls, looking far from the charismatic, caring Shane that everyone knows.

Carl jolts at that, eyes wide. Shane notices.

“I hit a sore spot, didn’t I?” he continues. “Do you know how easy it is for me to do it? No one would suspect a goddamn thing.”

“Please don’t,” Carl begs. “I’ll do anything you want, just please don’t hurt my dad.”

Shane grins cockily. “Anything?”

Carl nods. “Anything. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

The man slips back into him. Carl gasps in pain. “Tell me you want me.”

“I- I want you.”

“Beg me for it.”

Carl flushes. “Please… fuck me.”

Shane grips his throat.

“ _Gladly_.”

 

…

 

When Carl wakes up the next morning, it’s quiet. Lori must still be sleeping. Shane’s sitting calmly at the table, sipping his coffee. Carl groggily rubs his eyes and gets himself a cup of milk. The man’s eerily calm, but it’s way too early to deal with his bullshit. The first odd thing that he notices is that the trash has been taken out. He glances over at Shane, who’s still acting like nothing is out of the ordinary. The man never helped out with the house chores.

The second alarming thing is that his gardening tools are set out on the kitchen counter, muddied. Frowning, Carl climbs back up the stairs to shower and change. When he comes back down, Lori is already up and making breakfast in the kitchen. Shane is in the living room, putting on his belt and holster. Carl’s freaking blessed that he’s leaving for work. He walks by the veranda doors leading to the backyard, taking note of a couple crushed petals. He should add more mulch to the soil if the roses are shedding petals so fast. The moment that thought crosses his mind, he gasps. The petals are purple and tiny, too small to be rose’s. He rushes to the veranda, slamming the door open. He runs to his lilacs, only to find bare stumps where flourishing violet flowers and heart shaped leaves should be.

The devastation that overwhelms him drowns out all his other senses, making him all too aware of the throbbing pain in his chest. They’re gone, gone, gone. Rick’s precious flowers are gone. All because Shane was, what? Jealous? The thought of him jerks Carl into action. He’s suddenly so angry he can’t even process what he’s doing.

“What have you done? How could you fucking do this?” he screams, heading straight for the man. He’s never felt so helpless and distressed and unforgiving as he does now. He wants to _kill_ Shane.

Lori might have called out to him- he doesn’t know. He barely registers anything besides his murderous desire. He lunges at Shane, punching him in the face. The man is surprised, not reacting quick enough to avoid the second attack.

“You knew what they meant to me, you fucking bastard! How could you do this to me?” he yells, hitting anywhere he can reach. His mother tries to hold him away, but he shoves her off. Shane finally gets back his senses, grabbing his wrists roughly. Carl staggers, hyperventilating and sobbing and so beyond mad. He grabs randomly at his pruning saw and shoves past Shane to get to the trash bins outside. He tears open the bag, littering the whole garden with lilacs. Their pungent, beautiful scent fills the air. He sobs, clutching the flowers as if for dear life. Lori and Shane watch him like he’s gone crazy.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit!” Carl sobs, falling to his knees. Shane tries to approach him.

“Carl, calm down. They’re just flowe-”

Before he can touch the boy, Carl swings the saw at him, blade side up, and cuts him across the arm. Shane yells and clutches the slash that’s beginning to drip blood everywhere.

“Stay the _hell_ away from me,” he whispers, standing up to face him. He points the blade at Shane, forcing him to back up. “You touch my lilacs again, and I will. _Kill. You_. I don’t care if I go to fucking prison. If you don’t goddamn believe me, go ahead and try it again.”

When the man can’t find any words to say, Carl sinks back down to his lilacs, muttering to himself. Shane leaves for work, Carl assumes, because when he finally calms down, the man’s nowhere to be found. Lori watches him from the kitchen, but he ignores her completely. Leaving the lilac flowers all over the floor, he grabs his wallet and heads out the front door. He runs down to the florist’s garden to buy new pots of lilacs. The gardener helps him chose the exact type he has in the garden, and he buys a ridiculous amount of it.

It’s only after he pays for them that he realizes he doesn’t know how to get them home. The kind gardener offers to give him a ride home, which Carl agrees to. Lori’s still at home when he gets back. He carries all the pots into the garden and gathers the remaining supplies.

Lori has the audacity to call out to him.

“Do you need any hel-” she begins, but he cuts her off with a sharp, “shut up”.

She disappears for the rest of the day, most likely for the hospital shift. Carl works on the lilacs all day, for hours. When he’s finally done, the area looks like the way it did before fucking Shane cut everything off. Carl makes sure to keep the stumps visible so that everytime they see them, they’re reminded of his threat. He rakes up all the stray, dead lilacs and puts them in a new bag.

After he showers and changes into something more comfortable, it’s already seven, and he’s so hungry. The adrenaline he felt earlier completely overrode his need for food or rest. He makes himself some five alarm chili with the recipe Rick always uses. While it’s on the stove, he catches up on schoolwork. He calls Negan while he’s eating to tell him about the lilacs. He doesn’t tell Negan that he most likely will pay for his outburst later.

 

…

 

Carl wakes up in the middle of the night to Shane cutting off his airway. The man smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“You pull a stunt like that again, Carl, and you know what I’ll do to Rick,” he slurs, free hand moving down between Carl’s thighs. Carl doesn’t struggle. He hopes Shane’s arm hurts for a long time.

The man falls asleep fast, and Carl goes to sleep on the living room couch instead. He curls around Rick’s pillow, clinging to it until he stops crying.

 

…

 

He’s halfway home when Negan pulls up next to him, honking. Carl jumps in, kissing him hard. The man catches sight of newly placed hickeys. Negan smiles sadly at him.

“He’s still doing that to you?” he asks as he drives them to an ice cream place.

Carl nods distractedly, and Negan rests a strong hand on his thigh.

“Well, when you’re ready, just tell me to take care of it,” Negan says. When Carl doesn’t answer, he adds. “I’m serious. I can make him go away forever… but I won’t do it until you give me the okay.”

The boy places a hand on top of his.

They meet the Pink Ladies at the ice cream parlor. A couple of Negan’s other friends are there (a nice guy called Dwight and a crassier man called Simon); Daryl gives him a little smile, almost like a wince. Negan doesn’t let anyone get too close to him, holding him close and kissing him. As they’re all chatting, Sherry smiles briefly at him before sliding a small silver box to him. She winks and resumes a conversation with another friend.

Later that night, when Carl’s alone in his bedroom, he opens the box to find a sweet little lilac flower ring. He strings it on the necklace that he keeps his father’s ring, smiling at the comforting weight of it.

 

…

 

Carl keeps going to visit Rick, worried that Shane will do as he threatens. Daryl promises him that he’ll never let anyone come into Rick’s room besides Carl. He’s forever grateful for that. Carl brings Rick batches of the new lilacs, pleased that they smell almost as sweet as the old bushes. Shane told him that he cut the lilacs because he hadn’t reacted when he told him to stay away from Negan. Carl wishes that he’d stabbed the man somewhere more grave. But he supposes he had scared Shane that time; the man can hardly glance at the lilacs that Carl sets out around the house.

Shane keeps him in the house as much as he possibly can, probably paranoid that he’d sneak off with Negan. Carl feels miserable, trapped in his own house. Shane jumps him every chance that he gets. Carl’s sick of everything. He can’t study, he can’t sleep, he can’t even meet up with Negan. He doesn’t even eat a lot anymore. Lori still ignores him. He contemplates ending it.

That’s when he gets a call from Michonne in the middle of the night.

 

…

 

He runs to the hospital, shoes and jacket forgotten in his hand. Lori and Shane must have been roused by his frantic scrambling and slamming the doors shut in his hurry. Carl didn’t wait around to see if they’d come with him.

_“Baby, your daddy’s awake.”_

Carl rushes past the receptionist, panting and red faced when he reaches Rick’s room. There’s people talking- doctors, nurses, and patients all looking in to view the miracle. At the door, Michonne ruffles his hair, smiling widely.

“He’s been asking for you since he woke,” she murmurs. He nods mindlessly. He takes a deep breath before he steps into the room, trying to keep his anxiousness below surface.

The moment his eyes meet his father’s identical blue grey ones, all the breath in his lungs are lost. He forgets how to breathe, how to speak, how to think. All the words he’s prepared to say float right out of his mind. All he can take in is Rick, Rick, Rick. Dad. Daddy. _Love_.

And Rick is smiling at him, a tired smile, and lifting his arms up for a hug.

“Carl, sweetheart, come here,” he says, voice raspy.  

He literally drops everything in his hands to throw himself at Rick. Michonne is there, Daryl, the doctor; they’re all crying. Carl realizes he is, too. Rick laughs and runs his hands all over his boy. He whispers sweet nothings into Carl’s ear when the boy’s crying grows into shuddering sobs and he’s trembling all over.

“ _Dad_ , I missed you _so much_ ,” he manages to say in between hiccups. He pulls back and studies Rick’s face, using both hands to cradle his cheeks. The man’s paler and thinner, but he’s still the same handsome, kind, and beautiful man Carl remembers him to be. His smile’s the same, his eyes, his lips, his hair. Buried beneath the stale hospital scent, Rick still has his distinct earthy scent on him.

Rick kisses his face, wiping his tears with the rough pads of his thumb.

“My baby,” Rick practically cooes. “My angel boy. It’s so good to see you. I love you so much, Carl.”

His eyes are filled with tears, but he doesn’t shed a single one. Carl knows he’s trying to be strong for him. Surprisingly, the doctors let Carl stay wrapped in Rick’s arms as they perform some checkups on Rick. He’s still weak enough that Carl can’t stay like that for long, but the nurses are generous to Carl because they know what he’s been through.

Rick has a peaceful smile on his face as he listens to Carl talk and talk about the past 20 months. School, Enid and Ron, the lilacs. If Rick notices that he never mentions Lori or Shane at all, he doesn’t mention it. Later, when Michonne comes back in to bring Rick something light to eat and drink, she finds father and son curled up together on the bed, fast asleep.

 

…

 

Rick’s waking up is like a sunrise in Carl’s life. Lori stops drinking, Shane moves out, and Carl can sleep better at night knowing that his dad will be back home soon. He still resents the two of them, the way they’re both acting like they’d never been together, like they hadn’t been having the obvious affair. Lori pretends like she’s always been the perfect housewife, cooking and cleaning again. She and Shane come to see Rick together the morning after, all smiles and friendly attitudes. Rick is sweet with them, but everyone can see the love he reserves for Carl alone.

Carl is excited to have his father home in a couple days, when the doctors deem him stable enough to come back. He spends every free moment at the hospital with Rick, sometimes chatting amably, sometimes just holding his hand, sometimes crying. Being with the man is wonderful; Rick fills the void in him that’s been eating him up since the accident.

He avoids the touchy subjects- Shane, Lori, Negan- and tries to make his dad smile as much as possible. Rick doesn’t mind anything he does, always looking at him with gooey soft eyes and a gentle smile. Carl loves him so much.

 

…

 

Shane is more angry and stressed out than he normally is. Every chance that he gets, he’s slamming Carl into the wall and fucking him. His violence has gotten considerably worse, as well. Carl notices his increased use of force when it comes to getting his way. One day, on Carl’s way home after school, Shane drives up next to him and shoves him into the back of the car.

Carl doesn’t have time to scream before the man’s gagging him and pulling down his pants. Shane doesn’t prepare Carl thoroughly, and he barely uses enough lube to make it a bit easier for the boy. He pants against Carl’s neck, thrusting fast and hard, like he’s starved for Carl’s body. Carl struggles, cries muffled by the cloth that Shane pushed into his mouth. His hands are restrained by handcuffs the whole time.

“You better not spill a word of this to Rick, you hear me?” Shane demands afterwards, hastily wiping himself off with Carl’s shirt.

Carl doesn’t answer him as he pulls on his underwear and pants. A trail of blood runs down his thigh. Shane growls and grabs his jaw in a crushing grip, making him meet his eyes.

“Do you fucking hear me, boy?” Shane shouts. “If you don’t, I swear to god I will tell Rick what you and Negan have been up to.”

Carl whimpers, nodding. Shane throws him down before tossing the dirtied shirt at him.

“Get the fuck out.”

 

…

 

Lori’s still tidying the house when Carl gets home.

Her perfect brows arch when she catches sight of his tousled appearance, but she doesn’t say a word to him. He trudges to the fridge, grabs the carton of orange juice, and chugs down a couple of big gulps. It doesn’t get rid of the taste of Shane’s semen on his tongue. Gritting his teeth, Carl ignores Lori as he goes upstairs to shower and brush his teeth.

He doesn’t come down for dinner.

 

…

 

Negan pets his hair, smiling when Carl lets out a content sigh. They’re picnicking after school by the lake in the park. Negan brings him meringues and crème brûlée from a nearby well known bakery. Carl crawls to kneel over his lap, not caring if there’s people around to recognize him. He misses Negan’s comforting presence. The man lets him press kisses to his face. Carl sighs again as he presses his lips to Negan’s temple languidly. He stays there, eyes closed, for a while, feeling Negan shift beneath him.

“Honey, the ducks are coming over for your meringues,” Negan whispers, voice very soft. Carl whines, finally moving back. He still stays seated on Negan’s lap as he bites into one of the cookies. “Wanna bring some of these for your daddy?”

Carl nods, brushing the tip of his forefinger across the glossy smooth surface of a meringue. “He loves these.”

Negan wraps an arm around Carl’s waist. He squeezes gently.

 

…

 

“Oh, I completely forgot!” Carl exclaims, setting the dessert he made for Rick aside.

He pulls the chain off from his neck, holding the ring out to Rick. It glistens in the dim light, next to the lilac ring. Rick takes it in his palm, studying it. A smile spreads on his face.

“I never used to keep it so pretty,” he says, laughing. He looks healthier and livelier than he did a week ago. He puts the chain back in Carl’s hand. His eyes are misty. “You keep it, hun. So I’m always with you.”

Carl returns the smile, clutching the ring to his chest. He unstrings the lilac ring, handing it to Rick instead.

“You take this one, then,” he announces. Rick raises his eyebrows, chuckling. The little thing only fits on his pinky. “So _I’m_ always with _you_.”

Rick leans forward to press a long kiss to his forehead, pulling back with even wetter eyes.

“Those lilacs… did you bring them for me every time you came to visit?” Rick asks, rubbing his eyes. Carl nods.

“Every time, dad,” he confirms. “I can’t wait for you to see the garden.”

“Such a good boy, Carl. You’re such a good boy. _I_ can’t wait to get out of this bed so I can make it up to you for the last year and a half.”

Rick makes him climb onto the bed so he can hug his child. They cuddle up in each other’s arms; Rick nuzzles into his neck, laughing when he smells his own body wash on Carl. Michonne later scolds them for it, hiding a smile as she walks in.

 

…

 

Shane knees him in the stomach when he discovers that Carl’s still seeing Negan.

“Rick, it’s terrible, you gotta arrest him,” he taunts, leering above Carl who’s gasping in pain. “That criminal, Negan, has been screwin’ your boy for months!”

He grabs Carl’s throat to pull him up and slam him against the wall again.

“I will _end_ Negan, Carl,” he snarls, his cigarette breath burning Carl’s eyes. “I will end your rendezvouses, and you will never see his sorry ass again. Do you want that, sweetheart? Do you want Rick to arrest him?”

Carl is torn between believing him and believing that Rick would trust his word above Shane’s.

“No, Shane. Please don’t tell dad-” he says, choking when the man punches him in the gut.

“What did I teach you, Carl? Didn’t we decide you look best on your knees?”

Carl does as he says, getting down to his knees to beg the man. Shane watches him with a smug grin. Carl grits his teeth as he reaches up to undo Shane’s belt, hands shaking hard. He squeezes his eyes shut when Shane grips him by the hair and pulls him in.

 

…

 

Rick is released from the hospital a couple of days later. Michonne makes sure Carl knows when his next checkup is before they’re on their way home. Lori drives them home, pretending to be the wonderful wife and mother that she isn’t. Carl watches his father wander around the house, fingers grazing over everything, eyes taking in every little change. Lori goes to make dinner as Carl follows Rick all through the house. It seems that Shane and Lori did a good job of cleaning up all signs of Shane having lived here for the past 20 months. All the alcohol has also been cleared away.

Rick inhales a sharp breath when he opens the door to Carl’s bedroom, eyes watering as he takes in the familiarity of the room. The bare light grey walls, small wooden desk, cream colored bed sheets, and lilacs gleaming gold in the sunset. He walks across the room to Carl’s desk, running his hands over the neat stacks of paper and fresh flowers. When his eyes fall to the beautiful blue cologne bottle, he turns away quickly to wipe away a tear as to not let Carl see. The boy goes to him, wrapping his arms around Rick. He immediately turns around to hug Carl to his chest, rocking them both.

“I love you, Carl,” he murmurs into Carl’s hair.

“I love you, too, dad.”

Later, when Rick goes to see the garden, he literally bends down to kiss his lovely lilacs. There’s butterflies and bees lazing about, moving around the lilacs. Carl follows closely behind him, plopping down on the grass next to Rick. They soak up the sunshine in comfortable silence.

“You took such nice care of them, baby. I’m happy,” Rick says, tucking a strand of Carl’s hair behind his ear. “The herbs are growing nicely, too.”

Carl nods, beaming.

“It comforted me to take care of them. Since you liked them so much.”

“They’re gorgeous this spring. You’ve got magic fingers, Carl,” Rick says, propping himself up with an elbow. He looks down at Carl, brows furrowing just the slightest bit. “What happened to those stumps?”

The boy freezes minutely but forces himself to relax.

“Some wild animal got to them.”

 

…

 

Carl knows that Rick is pretending to not notice the cold indifference between his wife and boy. There’s just _no way_ that the man can’t see the way Lori avoids being alone with Carl at all times, the way Carl doesn’t address her as “mom”, and the way either one of them leaves the room when the other is there. One evening, while they’re having dinner, Carl makes a little remark about the way Lori makes her steak.

“This is more rare than I usually make it.”

Carl hadn’t realized he had given anything away until Rick gently lays down his knife and fork. He takes a small sip of his water, maybe just to do something. He turns to face Carl, who’s eating his roasted potatoes with less gusto than Rick remembers.

“You’ve been… making your own dinner?” He asks, quietly. Carl stops chewing, eyes averting. Next to them, Lori freezes as well. “I thought your mother always prepared it before she goes to work?”

Carl recovers quickly, Rick notes, and his child turns to him with a smile. It’s strained and doesn’t reach his youthful eyes.

“Stop thinking so hard about stuff, Dad!” he says, reaching over to lay a hand over Rick’s. “Geez, just out of the hospital and worrying already.”

Rick drops the issue, but both their reactions make his mouth bitter with something curling in his gut.

 

…

 

His father surprises him after school. Rick brings with him a picnic basket and blanket. The police station doesn’t want him back until he’s fully recovered, and his supervisors have ordered him to take as long as he needs and to spend time with his boy. Carl latches onto Rick, kissing his face and hugging him the moment he sees him. He’s thankful that it’s not Shane who decided to pick him up; the man’s been trying to get him alone for a while now. They have a late lunch by the park lake, chatting until late afternoon. The subjects they bring up are random; Rick seems to just talk about whatever comes to mind first. They miss dinner that night.

Another day, Rick takes him to get old school pie downtown, and they come back to a very tight lipped Lori.

“You missed dinner again,” she states simply. They’ve missed dinner many times in a row already. Rick shrugs off his coat and helps Carl slip out of his.

“Sorry, we got carried away,” he laughs, ruffling Carl’s hair pleasantly. The boy beams up at him, very aware of Lori’s gaze on him. “Did you know Carl stopped liking peach mille-feuille? He’s always been obsessed with that stuff.”

Lori crosses her arms, looking further disgruntled.

“Is that so?” She doesn’t sound very interested.

Rick kneels in front of Carl, kissing his forehead. They grin at each other. “Run along and take a hot bath. It was cold out, and I don’t want you getting sick. I’ll pick you up for something special tomorrow.”

Carl nods, hugs Rick, and runs upstairs. He pauses at the top of the stairs to listen in on their conversation.

“He’s not a little boy anymore, Rick. Stop treating him like that. You have other things to do.”

Rick scoffs.

“Sure, I can do whatever, but what I want _most_ is to spend time with my child. Don’t you think I owe him that?”

“You don’t owe him anything! He needs to grow up and start acting like the teenager he is. You treating him like this is only going to make him grow up _weak_!”

Carl hears a loud sound of something being slammed onto the dining table. Rick’s tea mug, perhaps.

“Don’t ever say that again, Lori. He can act however the hell he wants. I won’t have him hearing you say something so closed minded,” he commands. His tone is firm and filled with anger. Carl doesn’t remember Rick ever talking to Lori like that in the past.

When Lori doesn’t respond, Rick briskly heads up the stairs. Carl rushes to his room so he doesn’t give away his eavesdropping.

 

…

 

Shane invites Lori and Rick to go drinking one evening. Rick bids Carl a good night before he leaves, tucking the boy into bed with a kiss and smile. Carl and Negan chat over the phone well into the night before Carl’s yawning, and Negan demands he go to bed. He doesn’t expect to wake up to Shane crawling over his body in the dead of the night. Carl’s gasp is muffled by a firm hand pressed over his mouth. The man is drunk, so drunk, and his words are slurred. Carl gags at the smell of alcohol puffing across his face.

“Hey, baby boy,” Shane slurs, hands running all over him. Carl squirms, wondering where the hell his parents are. “I missed you these couple of weeks. I couldn’t stop thinking about your tight little ass.”

Carl squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push him off. He yelps when Shane pushes his legs apart. The man pulls on his pajamas so hard they rip and plunges two fingers into Carl, dry.

“Shane! Stop, no, please,” he whisper-shouts, trembling with pain. The man covers his mouth, shushing him. He doesn’t even register Carl’s words.

“Shush, shhh, Carl. Your daddy might hear us. I know you don’t want that; we have to be quiet,” he whispers into Carl’s neck. He moves his fingers in and out of Carl roughly. He’s too drunk to remember to make it feel good for the boy. Carl squirms, breaths coming out short and fast.

“It hurts, Shane. Stop. Fucking _stop_!” he shoves him again. This time, the man almost falls off the bed. He suddenly grows angry, smacking Carl across the face, before really climbing on top of him.

“Fine. You want this the hard way, then. You’ll fucking get it.”

He pushes his cock into Carl without more prep. The boy lets out a choked off scream, and Shane pushes a pillow against his face to shut him up.

After the second time this happens, Carl begins going to Rick’s bed.

 

…

 

The first time he sleeps in Rick’s bed, Lori’s at work. Rick’s still up, reading a novel with only his nightstand lamp on. He looks up, smiling, when Carl enters his room. The boy’s twisting his hands, a very shy look on his face.

“What is it, Carl?” he asks, immediately laying down his book to give Carl his full attention like the good father he is.

Carl walks up to the edge of the bed, fingers picking at the helm of his oversized henley shirt. Rick hasn’t called him out about wearing his clothes yet.

“Can I sleep here tonight, Dad?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip.

Rick raises his eyebrows before tilting his head and beckoning Carl closer to him. Carl approaches him, taking Rick’s offered hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Carl shrugs, gripping Rick’s hands.

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about you, and now I can’t sleep. Maybe I just need to feel you here- to make sure this isn’t a dream.”

His father’s expression softens considerably, and he leans in to kiss Carl and hug him.

“I understand how you feel, sweetheart. Of course you can sleep in here.”

He scoots over, making enough space for Carl to get in. Carl lifts the blanket up to crawl in, gently laying his head on his father’s outstretched arm. Almost instantly, the man wraps his arm around Carl and pulls him closer.

“You can keep reading if you want,” Carl says, feeling a little guilty for taking up his time. Rick shakes his head, getting up and leaning over Carl to switch the lamp off. Carl can see his toned chest from where he lay. He swallows thickly.

“It’s okay. I wanna be here for you,” Rick responds, flipping the switch. He settles back down to their earlier position, pressing his nose into Carl’s hair. He inhales the scent of his little boy, groaning softly. It feels so good to have his child tucked in his arms.

“You smell sweet, Carl,” he laughs, snuggling tight against him.

Carl laughs, too, feeling so safe in his father’s arms. Rick’s heady, warm scent fills all his senses. He’s never felt warmth like this. They fall asleep fast.

 

…

 

Carl and Rick have lunch with Michonne one weekend. She’s glad to see the two of them so happy together. She compliments Rick’s healthy tan, remembering how pale and weak he looked in those 20 months. Rick expresses his gratitude for her taking care of him for so long. Carl likes their casual chemistry; they’re both extremely friendly, and Rick talks to her like she’s an old friend. She dotes on Carl, teasing him about school and girls. Rick likes that they have inside jokes. He pays for their meal and gives her a hug before they leave.

Later that night, Carl begins to do their laundry when Rick stops him. The man frowns deeply. He asks Lori about it over dinner, keeping his tone light, but they can tell he’s getting suspicious about what she’s been up to through the duration of his coma.

 

…

 

It’s late, and Rick proposes to watch a movie with him. They bring over a couple of fleece throws, soda, snacks, and pillows to huddle up in front of the television. Carl lets Rick pull him close and rest his hands on his waist. They’re close enough that they might as well have been sharing the same air. Rick hardly even watches the screen, however. He keeps glancing over to see Carl’s reactions to the film.

By the time Lori gets back from work, Rick has just begun to doze off. His face is pressed against the juncture of Carl’s neck and shoulder, soft breaths hot on Carl’s skin. Lori takes in the sight of them, the way the snacks remain relatively untouched, the way Rick holds onto Carl in sleep, the way they’re lying on the couch. Her eyes narrow when Carl looks up to meet her eyes. He doesn’t utter a single word, watching her grind her teeth. He’s sure she sees the dismissal in his body language. Rick groans into his skin, and with that, she turns on her heel and shuts the door to their bedroom.

In the morning, Rick wakes in Carl’s arms on the couch. He feels his heart burst with love for his child, and he leans down to press a long kiss to Carl’s brow. He hardly even notices Lori walk into the room.

 

…

 

It rains for two whole weeks. The sky is dark and moody, and Rick has already begun working at the station again. Negan’s been busy with whatever he does for a living, as well. That morning, Rick reminds Carl to take an umbrella in case it rains on his way back. Carl forgets to take one. He trudges home, trying to avoid huge puddles and muddy grass. He’s completely soaked in rain the moment he leaves the school building. He’s startled when a patrol car pulls up next to him, and his heartbeat quickens at the thought of it being Shane. His breathing gets erratic when he finds out that it is, in fact, Shane.

“Get in, kid,” he calls over. Carl tries to keep himself calm as he slips into the passenger seat. He hates how easily Shane can still get to him, even with Rick present now.

Shane doesn’t say anything at first, simply driving him home. Eventually, they pull up to Carl’s driveway. Shane turns off the engine and turns to Carl, noticing the boy’s quivering shoulders. He reaches for Carl, only to have the boy lean away. He tries again, laying a warm hand on the back of Carl’s neck.

“Are you scared of me, Carl?” he asks, looking quite serious.

Carl looks at his hands, afraid to answer truthfully. His breath hitches when Shane strokes at the curls at the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to be,” Shane continues, speaking softly. “You know I love you more than anything… don’t you?”

Carl nods just because there’s nothing else he can do in the moment. The man moves his hand down Carl’s neck and just barely slips his fingers past the collar of his shirt. He slides his fingertips across Carl’s collarbone.

“You’re so pretty, Carl. How can I ever stay mad at you? I just want you to myself.”

He leans in to press a kiss to Carl’s neck, inhaling the boy’s scent as he does so. Carl shudders, bracing himself for what he knows is going to happen.

Outside, rain thunders against the car hood.

 

…

 

The next time he sees Negan, there’s a huge bruise right beneath his jawline. It’s a wonder that Rick didn’t see it that morning; the man woke up late and had to rush to the station with a distracted kiss to Carl’s temple. Negan draws a sharp breath, reaching out to caress the mark. Carl tries to play it off, but Negan fumes, getting so angry he could have gone to murder Shane that very instant.

“Rick’s back, Carl,” he rants. “You could tell him! You could stop all this!”

But Carl isn’t ready to tell him. He isn’t ready to tell anyone yet. When Rick asks about the bluing flesh over dinner, Carl makes up some excuse.

 

…

 

NEGAN

 

He waits in the shadows until Shane pulls up in his driveway. He doesn’t even think about being quiet as he makes his way to the man, hands twitching to strangle him the same way he did to Carl. Shane doesn’t notice him until he’s pinned to the garage door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demands, struggling to get Negan off of him. “Attacking an officer is a federal offense.”

Negan glares at him, hard.

“Listen to me, you piece of shit,” he says, voice low and dangerous. Shane’s known him long enough to know just how deadly he can be. “I’ve stood by you raping and hitting Carl for far too long. I swear to _fuck_ , if you don’t stop, _I will murder you_. I don’t care what the repercussions are- I will fucking do it.”

Shane’s eyes narrow, and then, to Negan’s surprise, he grins.

“Go ahead and try it, Negan.” He spits his name out in disgust. “Just wait and see what Rick will do when he finds out just how intimate you’ve been with his child.”

Negan slams him into the garage, harder this time.

“You go tattle to Rick, and I’ll go straight to the goddamn sheriff’s station with Carl and hand over evidence of your filthy semen and saliva. Then, you’ll be off to prison, where you’ll rot for fucking eternity for what you’ve done.”

“Not if I blow your brains out,” Shane says, the arrogant smile still on his face. Negan really has to refrain himself from punching him so hard, he blackouts. “Trust me, if you think about taking that little slut to the sheriff’s, I’ll just shoot you and have him to myself. You think he loves you or something? He’s playing you and me. You don’t know how many men he’s fuckin-.”

He slams his fist into Shane’s face, watching in satisfaction when the man falls to his knees in pain.

“Now I know why Carl’s so scared to tell anyone. You’re the vilest, most manipulative asshole I’ve ever met!” Negan shouts, more angry than he’s ever been his whole life. “You think I’m gonna turn on him just because of the bullshit you’re spewing? Who am I, Walsh? The only reason why you’re not already dead is the deal Rick made with the Saviors. I still respect the shit out of him, and I don’t wanna unleash all out war on you.”

The man roars in anger, throwing himself at Negan. He side steps and lets Shane barrel forward into open air, his own weight propelling him to the ground.

“You’re pitiful. You weren’t like this before Rick’s coma. What the hell happened to you?” He remarks, shaking his head.

“I’m gonna ruin you, Negan. You just wait.” Shane snarl, eyes wild.

“No, Shane. You lay your hands on Carl again and you know I’ll uphold my promise.”

 

…

 

CARL

 

One peculiar day after school, Carl and Rick unexpectedly run into familiar faces. It’s still rainy as hell, but Rick is loving and homely and funny. He and Carl find a booth at a popular diner. They order a massive amount of junk food, and Carl doesn’t even get to take a bite before he’s interrupted by a chorus of giggles.

“Is that Carl?” Frankie yells from where the ladies are sat across the room. “Your daddy’s still a stud, I see!”

Rick turns to them with a curious expression and smiles at the sight of the four women. Carl groans and hits his head on the table, trying to hide his red face. He’s surprised when his father suddenly speaks up.

“Ladies, how are you?” he asks as they walk over. Amber drapes herself all over Carl, smiling when he blushes further. Frankie leans in close to Rick, fawning over him. The two other girls answer, but Carl’s too confused by their interactions and by his embarrassment.

“Ahh, those blue eyes,” Frankie continues to say. Rick laughs at her flirtatious advances.

“Stop that!” Tanya chuckles and bats Frankie’s hand off of Rick’s bicep. “We get it, already!”

Sherry scoots over to sit next to Rick, smiling at the ring on his pinkie.

“You look good, Grimes. Been working on those abs you lost?” she teases, sending a wink at Carl.

“Dad, you know them?” he asks, incredulous.

“Oh _yeah_ ,” Rick nods. “Ever since the Saviors and sheriff station feud a decade back.”

Carl’s jaws drop. “The Saviors.”

“Yep, them. Sherry was the leader’s girlfriend then. Good times.”

The ladies snort.

“Your daddy’s a hero,” Frankie breathes. “He made the compromise with _the leader_ that stopped the whole turf war.”

They give Carl very pointed looks. Negan. Rick doesn’t notice their exchange, scratching the back of his neck shyly.

“It wasn’t much.”

They finish the rest of the meal with the Pink Ladies, and Carl learns that Negan and Rick have known each other for longer than he thought.

 

…

 

When Lori first discovers that he’s sleeping in their bed, she doesn’t say anything about it. It’s only after she wakes up one morning to find Carl draped completely over her husband’s body that she brings it up. It’s a weekend, and both Lori and Rick are off from work. Rick and Carl are in the garden together, putting new fertilizer for the plants. Her agitation has been almost tangible for weeks now.

After a very awkward dinner and an even more awkward evening spent trying to not look directly at each other in the living room, Carl excuses himself to bed. Lori barely looks up from her book.

“Oh, if you’re tired, just sleep first,” Rick calls after him. “I’ll be up soon, hun.”

“Sure, Dad!”

Carl scurries to the bathroom, showers, and brushes his teeth. He becomes aware of raised voices from downstairs as he towel dries his hair. It’s odd to hear Rick yelling; the man’s usually as calm as can be. Carl can count the times he’s heard Rick raise his voice like that on one hand. Sneaking to the top of the stairs, he listens to their “conversation”.

“... don’t you say that shit to me, Lori. What are you trying to imply?”

“I see the way you look at him, Rick! I have eyes! He latches onto you like… like some _goddamn-_!”

Carl jolts when he hears something crash downstairs.

“Are you saying it’s wrong then? It’s so _wrong_ that I love my child more than anything else in the world? It’s so wrong that you have to put such a disgusting label on our relationship?” Rick yells, sounding out of breath.

Lori’s silent for a moment before she answers, voice bitter. “You know that’s not what I mean. It’s not right for him to keep sleeping in the same bed as you.”

“ _Not_ _right_?” Rick laughs, a humorless thing. “You think that just because he wants to sleep in the bed with me that we’re… incestuous? That we’re sinning?”

“The way you two looked this morning, the way you held him… if you’d seen it, you’d know what I fucking mean!” She shouts, now.

“How did we look, Lori? Tell me! I’d love to know what you saw!”

Carl wraps his arms around himself, trembling. This is what Lori thought of him now? Some immoral monster? He hears Lori yell something else.

“I’m trying to be the best father I can for him!”

“The way you two are is _more_ than father and son, Rick! A father shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing!”

“You’re going to tell me how to be a parent? _You_ , of all people?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Rick laughs again, this time louder and with disbelief, like he can’t believe she’s asking him this.

“I’ve heard things, Lori. I’ve heard some _vile, despicable_ things about what you’ve been doing for the past year and a half,” he says. Lori is suddenly deathly quiet. “The way you’ve been treating Carl- don’t lie to yourself and think that I don’t know about any of it.”

Carl holds his breath when Rick spits his final words to her.

“Don’t you ever accuse me of doing something like _that_ to Carl ever again. If there’s anyone who needs a wakeup call about parenting, it’s you.”

Rick scales the stairs only to see his boy at the top, huddled into himself. He goes to Carl, rubbing Carl’s cheeks and kissing the crown of his head.

“C’mere, baby,” Rick murmurs, supporting him up and ushering him to his own room. “I’ve got you.”

They sleep in Carl’s room that night, and Rick doesn’t stop holding him all night.

 

…

 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Rick yawns, settling against Carl. He smiles lazily, peering down at his boy with hooded eyes. Carl’s heart leaps to his throat as he takes in the sight of his father glowing in the morning light. He’s stunning, even when he’s tired and sleepy.

“Morning, Dad,” he replies, voice a tad bit too soft and a pitch too high. Rick laughs, brushing his tangled hair out of his eyes.

They stare at each other for a moment, just absorbing each other’s presence. Carl can smell Rick’s hair and the thick scent of sleep warm skin. Rick leans closer to him, humming contently, and arranges his body over Carl’s. Carl spreads his legs and lets Rick lie between them for more comfort.

“You smell like a baby, Carl. I don’t know if it’s your skin or something, but it’s wonderful.” He presses his nose into the boy’s nape, sniffing deeply. Carl can’t help the little moan that escapes his lips. “So _warm_. You’re a great pillow, you know that?”

Carl bites his tongue to contain his whimpers, feeling horrified when his body starts reacting to Rick’s more than innocent touches. Surely the man could feel him now, as he’s pressed so tight above Carl. There’d be no way to hide it.

“I hope you’ll forget everything that your mother and I said last night,” Rick suddenly says, face still hidden in Carl’s neck. “We were angry, saying things that didn’t make any sense. I don’t want you to think that she… I don’t want you to think you did anything wrong. Because you didn’t.”

Carl swallows thickly, unsure of what to say. Rick pulls away just enough to gaze at him, his blue grey eyes sad and loving. He brushes his fingers across Carl’s cheek, feeling the softness of his skin. “You’re my sweet boy, Carl. You’re the best thing I ever did.”

They both unconsciously lean in, and Carl’s not sure when they got so close. The fluttering of Rick’s eyelashes ghosts a soft tickle on his cheeks. Their lips are close, so close…

And then a loud thump sounds from outside. They jerk apart as if shocked; Rick moves away so fast he falls off the bed. Carl’s breathing comes out fast and sharp as he scrambles to put on more clothes, horrified that he only has on a thin shirt and boxers. His father brushes himself off and combs a hand through his curls to flatten them. Lori bursts in only a second later, eyeing them suspiciously. She has her makeup done and her nice clothes on.

“Breakfast is made. I’m going shopping with Andrea and Carol,” she states with a monotone voice. Her eyes linger on the silver ring that Carl still wears like a trophy around his neck.

Rick hardly spares her a glance as he hums in reply. Carl busies himself with making the bed. With another glare, she slams the door shut on her way out. Rick and Carl have a _very_ awkward breakfast, both of them very aware of what almost happened.

Neither of them can really say they regret it.

 

…

 

“Who’s Lucille?”

Carl looks back at Negan from where he’s running his hands over the smooth surface of the man’s bike. Negan stops polishing his Impala for a split second, long enough for Carl to regret asking.

“My former wife,” he answers bluntly. Carl purses his lips.

“What happened to her?” he asks, seeing Negan halt once again. “Sorry, that’s insensitive. You don’t have to answer.”

Negan shakes his head, coming over to rest a hand on the handlebars. He gives Carl a sad smile, full of melancholy.

“She died. Of cancer.”

Carl gasp, feeling like shit for bringing it up. Negan simply smiles again and runs his thumb over the gold lettering on the side of his motorcycle that reads “ _Lucille, baby girl_ ”.

“I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t mean to…”

Negan looks at him for a second before averting his gaze.

“It’s okay, sweet pea. I got over it; it was a _ways_ back.”

Carl studies the gold words long after the man goes back to his car.

 

…

 

Carl steps out of the shower in only Rick’s oversized henley and a towel around his shoulders to catch dripping water from his hair. Rick’s cooking at the stove.

“Honey, fetch me some thyme, please,” Rick calls out, busy preparing the chicken pot pie filling.

“Got it!”

Carl slides the veranda doors open, letting the soft breeze and scent of star jasmines blow into the living room. Just around the side of the porch is their little fenced off section for herbs, but Carl reaches for the hanging ones that have been left out to dry. He goes back inside with a small pile of crushed dried thyme in his palm and holds it out for Rick. The man takes a pinch of it, tossing it into the pan with the thickening gravy. Rick looks over at him then, eyebrows raising and mouth curling into a smile.

“Wearing my clothes now?” he asks, sliding a hand around Carl’s waist to pull him in for a hug. He inhales Carl’s clean scent. The boy laughs. His father tuts at the feeling of his still wet hair. “You’re going to get sick, Carl. Here, let me.”

He takes the towel and gently dries Carl’s hair. The boy grabs the wooden spoon to keep stirring, relishing the wonderful aroma. When his father’s satisfied with his hair, they roll out the pastry to place on top of the filling. After baking it to perfection, they sit down on the veranda to eat. Rick looks at him like he’s everything in the world and more.

 

…

 

They plant more lilacs together. Rick insists that he wants to expand their little space, and Carl can’t agree more. They build an elevated space for the new flowers, and Rick lets Carl choose some different types of lilacs to go along the purple ones. By the time they’re done, the whole yard smells of lilacs, and the whole house is filled with vases of them.

Carl and Rick go to bed that night with their heady scent emitting from the nightstand. Carl burrow into his father’s chest.

 

…

 

Shane and Rick sit down in the living room one evening to chat and drink. Carl tries to sneak upstairs without them noticing, but Shane pinches him hard on thigh and asks him (with his silky sweet voice) to pour the scotch. He’s still got a fading black eye from Negan. Rick doesn’t object because it was typical of Carl of pour the drinks back when he was younger.

“C’mon, boy. Black label scotch whiskey, Rick?” Shane asks, casually placing a hand on Carl’s back. Rick replies with an affirmative, settling down into his seat. “Carl, you heard your dad. Two on the rocks.”

Carl swallows thickly, going to the gorgeous wine cellar next to the kitchen. When they had bought the house, they hadn’t expected to fill the whole room. Now, Rick has an impressive collection piling up from birthday and christmas gifts. The boy grabs the untouched bottle of finely aged scotch, two glass cups, and ice to prepare the drinks. It’s a familiar routine, one he used to complete with blissful ignorance, when his innocence was still intact. Alcohol is a terrible thing to Carl; too often, it added to the violence from Shane.

He goes back to the sitting room with the drinks and hands them to the men. Carl flinches when Shane takes his drink, winking suggestively at him. Rick takes his with a gentle caress to Carl’s hand and a shy smile. Both of the men take sips of their scotch.

“Sit down, Carl, talk with us,” Rick says, patting the spot next to him. Carl obeys but remains quiet as the two converse. Eventually, Shane just can’t control himself and has to bring Carl up.

“Alright, Carl. You gotta fill us in,” he starts. Rick turns to him with an amused look. “Pretty little boy like you must have a ton of admirers, right? I mean, look at that round ass. Tell us who you’ve been shaking the sheets with.”

Rick kicks Shane playfully, though he looks just a tad bit angry, as if he thinks no one should be doing anything like that with _his_ boy.

“Shane, shut it. He’s not ‘shaking the sheets’ with anyone!” Rick exclaims, looking at Carl desperately. “Right, Carl?”

Carl doesn’t know what to say; all his options are bad.

“There’s no one, really,” he answers, cheeks growing red with embarrassment. “I haven’t had time to get into that stuff.”

“Aw, come on! You expect us to believe that?” The man presses. Carl wonders if he’s trying to get himself caught. “You must have fooled around with some girls, right?”

“Shane!” Rick cries.

“What? I know you wanna hear it, too,” the man smirks, turning back to the boy. “At least tell us if you’ve been laid.”

Carl stares at Shane, not believing the man’s asking so many close- to- home questions. Rick begins to object, assuring Carl that he doesn’t have to answer if he’s uncomfortable. He sounds a little pissed off. Carl grits his teeth and continues glaring at Shane. The man keeps a smug grin on his face.

“Yeah, I’ve had sex,” he says, voice hard. “It’s someone you know well, but I don’t think you’ll be pleased to know who it is.”

Rick splutters, setting down his drink on the coffee table with a loud clang. He looks oddly possessive. Shane’s smile slips off of his face. Carl looks away, folding his hands in his lap.

“Enough of this. Shane, quit it, it’s an inappropriate subject.” Rick says, getting up and reaching out to pull Carl off the couch. “We’ll be fine here. You can run along, sweetheart.”

Carl nods, letting Rick kiss him on the forehead before sending him off.

Later that night, Rick slips into bed next to him. He smells intoxicating, smokey from the aged scotch. He gently takes Carl into his arms and presses his face into Carl’s hair.

 

…

 

“Hey, Dad,” Carl greets as he enters the man’s office.

The station is relatively quiet in the midafternoon. Carl comes to bring Rick some food after coming home after school and seeing the lunch he usually packs for Rick forgotten on the kitchen counter. The man looks up from his paperwork in pleasant surprise.

“Carl, what are you doing here?”

Carl approaches his desk and kisses him on the cheek. Rick lets him sit down on his lap.

“You forgot your lunch,” Carl states, taking out the things he’s packed. “And, _no_ , you can’t finish your work first. You have to eat _now_.”

Rick chuckles at his insistence.

“Alright then, Mr. Grimes,” he jokes.

He doesn’t even move Carl off his lap when he eats, to Carl’s amusement. Carl packed him some chicken and avocado pitta, raspberries, almonds, tuscan tortellini soup, and a smoothie. Rick kisses him on the forehead, eyes filled with love.

“You’re so good to me, Carl. What did I do to deserve you?”

Rick’s voice cracks a little at the end, and Carl’s worried he’ll actually cry.

“What kind of son would I be if I didn’t make sure you have a nice lunch?”

Rick kisses him again.

“A typical one.”

 

…

 

Michonne brings them food one day. She arrives unannounced with a large bundle of things, and Carl’s delighted to see her. Despite catching glimpses of her at the hospital for Rick’s weekly checkups, he adores her and loves to be around her outside of her work. Rick is pleased to see her as well, it seems, because he can’t keep the wide smile off his face.

She cooked a load of southern comfort foods for them: sausage gravy, thick buttermilk biscuits, collard greens, mac and cheese, gumbo, potato soup, and meringue pie. Carl’s mouth waters at the scent of everything. Rick thanks her for her generosity. They have a wonderful brunch with her, chatting and laughing. Carl wonders what Lori would feel if she saw her husband and son so at home with another woman.

 

...

 

At some point, Shane begins beating him again. After Rick woke, he had toned it down in fear of being caught. It seems he’s getting bolder now. Carl lied to Rick, the other day, with the excuse that he’d been hurt in gym class. The man didn’t seem to believe him.

Rick invites the man over for dinner one night, and Carl has to restrain himself from begging Rick to take back the invitation. At least they had invited a couple of neighbors as well. Lori dresses up all nice and pretty with a new dress and sweet perfume. Rick, still relatively ignoring her, coddles Carl with affection, helping him get dressed and pressing kisses to his forehead whenever he gets the chance to do so. Shane arrives at sundown, looking more animated at the sight of Carl. The smirk he wears is poisonous.

As the other guests arrive, Lori sets out plates of hors d'oeuvres for them to enjoy whilst they chat. Carl stands off to the side, forcing a couple of smiles and small talk with the couple from next door. Rick’s reassuring pats on his shoulder keep him from running out of the house as Shane steadily creeps closer to him. At dinner, Carl ends up sitting side by side with Shane, facing Rick and Lori. Pretentious conversations flow around the room while Carl takes small bites of his meal and tries to ignore the firm hand that’s traveling up his thigh.

Shane acts normal, laughing and talking with Rick and the rest like he’s not currently trying to jerk Carl off through his clothes. The boy chokes on a piece of lobster casserole at a particularly hard tug. Lori gives him an odd look as he hurriedly excuses himself and rushes out of the room. Still coughing, he goes to the restroom to splash some water on his burning face. He is surprised when Shane suddenly appears behind him and squeezes up against him, pressing his thin hips into the counter. He can feel the man’s hardness against his ass.

“Shane, don’t,” he pleads, still wheezing from the racking coughs. “Not now, not when there’s so many people present.”

The man twists him around, grabbing him by the jaw and squeezing his cheeks.

“You don’t get to tell me what to fucking do,” he snarls, baring his teeth like an animal. “I want you right now and I’m gonna get it.”

Shane has his way, fucking Carl hard and fast on the counter. The boy groans into the hand that’s muffling his noises, trying to stop the tears that squeeze from his eyes on their own at the pain. The man moans against his neck, biting and licking the soft skin there. Carl is disgusted by him. Shane finishes quickly, too hurried to even bother getting Carl off. The moment Carl puts his pants back on, he attempts to push past Shane and get back to the dining room, but the man slams him to the wall, pinning him there with a smothering look.

“Not a word, Carl; not one damn word, because if I hear _anything_ from Rick, you’re dead. It’s bad enough that you told that Savior scum.”

Carl glares up at him, resolutely not saying a word. Shane swings at him. “You piece of-!”

He’s cut off by Lori’s sudden arrival. Her question about whether they’re alright dies in her throat.  Shane’s hand connects with Carl’s face the moment she appears, and Carl can see the way her eyes widen at the sight of them. Shane immediately takes a step away from Carl, going to her to take her back to the table. He completely ignores Carl, acting like he was never with the boy.

Lori lets herself be dragged away, but she peers over her shoulder to see her broken and trembling son.

 

…

 

Carl decides to skip the rest of dinner; the bruises are rapidly becoming visible, and he can’t risk Rick seeing. His eyes burn with tears threatening to fall because he knows Lori saw. He knows it for sure. She didn’t say a word against it, and it hurts. Her rejection is expected, but Carl can still feel the sting of it. Before he can do anything, he hears Rick excuse himself from dinner to look for him. Panicked, he runs towards the stairs, scaling halfway up when Rick rounds the corner.

“Carl? Where are you going? Are you alright?” He calls after him. Carl continues going up, ignoring Rick’s calls. “Sweetheart? What is it?”

At the top of the stairs, he stops and replies to his father.

“It’s nothing, Dad. I’m just tired. You guys can go on without me.”

Rick hesitates, definitely knowing something is amiss. He’s about to make his way up to see his boy face to face when Carl stops him.

“Dad, I’m serious. Just leave me alone for awhile,” he says again. “I don’t need you here.”

He can almost feel Rick’s sadness at his words, but it’s necessary if he wants to be left alone. His father sighs.

“Alright then. I’ll leave you to it,” Rick says. “You know I’m here for you no matter what, right?”

Carl pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling guilty for putting his father off. He wants nothing more to snuggle up with Rick somewhere with no outside distractions.

“Yeah, Dad, I get it. I love you.”

He hears the smile in Rick’s voice.

“I love you, too, Carl.”

 

…

 

Carl can hear when the guests leave because absolute silence falls over the house. Lori and Rick aren’t speaking to each other unless necessary, so they literally don’t make a single sound as they’re washing the dishes and cleaning up. A couple hours later, Lori goes to work and leaves them to their own devices. Carl gets up from where he’s perched on his bed with a book and sneaks downstairs. The television is on, and Rick sits sprawled on the couch. He watches the screen lazily, like he has nothing better to do. Carl clears his throat softly, catching Rick’s attention. The man immediately brightens, but he waits for Carl to decide what he wants to do.

The boy goes to him, sitting down on the space next to his father. Rick places an arm over the back of the sofa. Carl blows out a deep breath, watching his hair flutter up.

“Hey, Dad,” he says, looking at his hands. “Whatcha up to?”

Rick smiles. “Nothing really. Missing you.”

Carl looks at him, eyes round and innocent.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, scoring closer to his father. “I was a little rude earlier. I didn’t mean anything. You’re still the best.”

Rick suddenly moves forward, concern clouding his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is tentative, bordering on anger.

“Who did this?” He asks, taking Carl’s chin and tilting his face up to the light. The bruises on Carl’s face and jaw are turning purple around the edges. “Carl? Please tell me.”

Carl’s mouth grows dry.

“I-it… it’s no one. I’m clumsy. I hit myself by accident,” he answers, grimacing at how unconvincing it sounds. Rick’s expression says the same.

“Baby, somebody hit you. I’m a cop; I see this everyday,” Rick pleads. “I can’t stand by anyone doing this to my son.”

Carl knows there’s no way to get out of this one. They’re the only ones home, and no one's gonna interrupt them now. Of course, he picks out the easiest, most humiliating excuse.

“No one touched me without… my consent…” he forces out, trying to make an embarrassed face.

It takes Rick a couple seconds to figure out what he means, but it dawns on him fast. He puts his hands on Carl’s shoulders, sitting very straight now.

“Carl, are you telling me they’re… hickeys?” He asks, expression lightening. Carl nods. “Is there a girl I should know about?”

“Not really,” Carl replies. He keeps his eyes averted.

Rick doesn’t hesitate. “A boy?”

Carl swallows and nods. “It’s complicated.”

The man mirrors him, nodding.

“He… gave you those, uh, hickeys?”

Carl nods again.

“Oh.” Rick bites his lip. “It’s okay, Carl. I’m not gonna think anything less about you. It’s fine.”

He hugs Carl close. Carl wraps his arms around his father. After a long stretch of silence and hugging, Rick continues to press.

“So, why is it complicated? Is he the boy that Shane asked about the other night?”

Carl’s not sure how to answer, so he tries to make up a response that most teenagers would give.

“It’s not the same guy, and we’re not exactly dating” He hopes the bluff passes. “I broke it off.”

Rick frowns. “Is he… um… were you guys using protection? Because it’s very important and you don’t want to contract-.”

“Dad, _stop_!” Carl cries, turning bright red. “I get it! I use protection!”

It’s such a big lie, and Carl feels so guilty about it. He could tell Rick it was Shane. He could spill everything now and leave it all for his daddy to deal with. But he can’t. Shane would ruin them. Rick laughs and brushes his hair out of his eyes.

“You’re a gorgeous kid, Carl. Gorgeous and smart and sweet. The boy was lucky, _real lucky_ , to have you,” he says, blue eyes sparkling. Carl can see some sadness in them. “You’re growing up too fast. You’re not gonna be my baby boy for very long, are you?”

Carl’s heart clenches. He wishes he could kiss Rick, hug him, and tell him he’s all Carl’s ever wanted.

“I’ll always be your baby boy, Dad. You’re the only one I love.”

Rick hauls him into his arms, making the two of them fall over onto the couch. Carl laughs, feeling the soft hardness of Rick’s body under his.

 

…

 

At some point in the middle of the night, they both become aware that they’re just pretending to be able to sleep.

“Dad?” Carl whispers, turning to face him. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” Rick agrees.

Carl leans forward into his father’s chest, mewling a little when the man brings his hands up to give his thin shoulders a knead. Rick grins. “Needy boy.”

Carl studies him, the way Rick’s hair falls over his skin, the way his smile lines are drawn out. They fall into a comfortable silence, both of them not able to fall asleep. Rick moves his hands down to Carl’s waist, as he slowly draws patterns into the small of Carl’s back. His breath ruffles his boy’s hair. Carl can feel the word “love” being traced over his skin.

“I dreamt about you, you know?” Rick murmurs. Carl freezes. “I always dreamt of you. Only you. Not your mom. Not Shane. Just you.”

When the boy doesn’t reply, he continues.

“Sometimes, you were crying. Sometimes you were holding me and kissing me. You were angry once- I don’t remember about what- but you always asked me to come back to you. Because you can’t do it alone. Because you need me.”

Carl’s grip on Rick tightens as he suddenly begins crying, trembling with emotions. Rick encourages him to let it out, rubbing up and down his back to comfort him.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Carl shakes his head, sobbing quietly.

“It’s not you, Dad. I just missed you. It was a hard time for me. I love you so much it hurts,” Carl say, voice soft and trembling. “I’m scared that I’m not enough, that you don’t want me.”

Rick scoots down to lie face to face with him. Their identical eyes meet, and Carl has to crack a little smile at how clear Rick’s are. The man offers a sad smile in return, gently wiping off stray tears from his face.

“Sweet boy. My sweet boy. You’re mine, you’re mine, Carl. I’ve got you.”

The kiss feels familiar, like they’ve always done this. His father tastes like comfort, like home, like everything he’s ever dreamed of. Carl opens his mouth to let Rick in, their lips moving softly with each other. Rick’s warm, big hands pull Carl close, gently- so gently as if to not hold him too hard. It means everything to Carl that he acts this way but still keeps his hands on his hips. Protective. He threads his fingers through Rick’s curls, gasping delicately when Rick squeezes his hips. Carl can taste his own tears mixed in with the salty, minty, earthy taste of Rick.

“Daddy. _Daddy_ ,” he pleads, for everything, anything, something. And Rick understands every one because he is the only one who knows Carl better than he knows himself. The boy knows Rick has given in to loving him unconditionally by the simple nod of his head as he leans once more. Rick cradles him, strong lips guiding Carl.

“I love you. I love you.”

 

…

 

The kiss doesn’t change a lot. Carl still swipes his father’s bacon. Rick still makes terribly obnoxious jokes. They still bicker about silly things. Lori still ignores them. Shane still fucks him. Negan still holds him close. But there’s a secret now, an intimacy that passes between them. In the mornings, when Carl wakes to his smile, Rick tugs him onto his lap and kisses him breathless. When Carl heads to school, they part with a lingering hesitation. Lori might have noticed their persistent closeness, but Carl can’t bring himself to give a shit what she thinks. The only person he has thought to tell is Negan, but even then he hasn’t convinced himself to do so.

Rick isn’t the one to escalate anything. He makes it very clear that he doesn’t want to hurt Carl. The morning after their kiss, he had almost apologized for it until Carl shut him up with another press of their lips. They both don’t really know how moral they’re being; Rick sure as hell knows it’s not a typical father- son relationship, but neither of them can say that it’s _wrong_. Being with Rick like this is so natural that Carl sometimes forgets that they’ve only just kissed. The way his father holds him is so fulfilling.

It’s Carl who initiates another another kissing session one night after Lori heads out for work. Shane and Rick have planned to go out drinking for the night. Carl crawls into Rick’s lap as they’re finishing up dinner. The man chuckles and holds him there by the waist. They both lean in to close the space between them, both sighing with content when their lips connect. Carl licks into Rick’s mouth, whimpering at the way Rick nips at his lips. Rick’s broad hands cup the back of his neck, tilting his head to kiss him deeper. Their tongues delve into each other’s mouths, lips melting together perfectly. Every fiber of Rick’s being is inflamed by the delighted purr that Carl moans out. Rick is such a lucky man, such a _blessed_ man, to have such a beautiful boy.

Later that night, when Rick has gone out with Shane, Carl finds himself begging for a release. He goes out to find Negan. The man laughs a little at his sexual frustration, but he gives in to Carl’s roamy hands and warm little mouth.

 

…

 

Carl comes home to Rick “baking” in the kitchen. The man’s made a mess with the flour, but Carl has to laugh when Rick exclaims at the sight of him and sweeps him off his feet with a kiss. He’s covered in flour now, and he goes over to sort out Rick’s mess. They manage to make a satisfactory pan of brownies with the ingredients that the man didn’t touch.

Later, when Carl retreats to his room, he whines at the multiple vases of flowers in his room. Rick pokes his head in and ruffles his hair.

“This is too much, Dad! Too many flowers!”

Rick’s eyes get watery, and his smile brightens.

“You used to tell me that before the accident.” His words are affectionate, and Carl reaches up to stroke his face.

 

…

 

Rick asks Shane to pick Carl up from a school event that lasts later into the evening because of work conflicts. It’s Shane’s day off, and Carl dreads seeing him. By the time Shane pulls up, Carl’s already trembling with fear. He gets into the car, keeping as far away from the man as possible. Shane is not in a good mood, that much is obvious. It’s only when they park in front of Carl’s house that the man reaches for him. Carl bites back a sob. He can’t take it, not with the lingering feeling of Rick’s loving hands on him. Shane’s hands are a stark reminder of the terrible things he’s put Carl through.

“Please don’t touch me,” he begs, which turns out to be the wrong thing to say because the man is yelling.

“Don’t touch you? Who the fuck do you think you are?” He jerks Carl to him, taking advantage of the rain that falls like a curtain around the car. No one’s gonna be seeing them anytime soon. “You should be grateful I care enough to pick you up. So come here and get to thanking me.”

He tugs at Carl again, trying to force his head down to his crotch. Carl whimpers and struggles to shove him off. He literally hits Shane in the eye to get him to let go. He makes a run for it, the rain blinding him as he gets out of the vehicle. He hears a roar of anger from Shane, and he makes the grievous mistake of tripping over the driveway curb. Before he can even blink, Shane grabs him by the throat and drags him over to the porch. He slams Carl into the wall by the side of the house, leaning in close to snarl into his ear. Carl wonders if any of the neighbors heard their struggling. Shane slaps him across the face sharply and painfully, not letting Carl recover from the first before giving him another. Carl sees stars when Shane delivers the third. His lower lip splits by the force of it.

“You always make me do this, Carl. You always make me hit you. Why do you always go against me?” His lips brush the shell of Carl’s ear. His fingers are tight around Carl’s throat, squeezing so hard that Carl sees black spots. “I could be so good to you, but you don’t want that, do you? You want me to rough you up, hit you.”

When he’s about to pass out, Shane releases him and lets him sink to the floor. They’re both soaked in rain and shivering. The man huffs out a bitter laugh and kicks him hard in the stomach. Carl grunts in pain, doubling over. He hears Shane’s car pull away, but he doesn’t move from where he’s laying in the rain. He lets himself fall limp, facing the darkening sky, letting the cold little droplets fall onto his eyelids. It’s cold and uncomfortable but so much better than having Shane’s hands on him.

By the time he walks into the house, his teeth are chattering and his split lip is dripping blood down his chin. He knows Lori is at home, but there is no sign of her. All he sees is an ice pack layed on the kitchen counter.

 

…

 

“Carl, can we talk?”

Carl looks up when Rick walks into the room. The man has an odd, almost unreadable expression on his hands as he holds something up for Carl to see. His heart nearly sinks when he recognizes Negan’s jacket. Rick walks over, sitting on the couch. He puts both hands on Carl’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes. He looks apprehensive.

“I’m gonna need you to be very honest with me, and I know you always are, but I need to make sure,” he begins, and Carl’s very afraid of what he might ask. “Are you a Savior, Carl? Is that how you know the Pink Ladies?”

Carl immediately shakes his head.

“No, Dad. I’m not part of the gang. I swear,” he answers. Rick studies at him a second longer before he nods, pulling his hands back. “I… it’s just that I’ve been talking to Dixon and the girls. I met them at a diner once, so we got closer.”

Rick starts, a worried expression crossing his face. “Dixon? Which Dixon? _Merle_?”

“Daryl Dixon. Merle’s a scumbag.”

“Oh, thank god,” Rick breaths out, a bit more relaxed. And then he jumps again. “You know Merle? How? Who does this jacket belong to? Daryl cut the sleeves off of his.”

The boy scoots closer to his father, rubbing Rick’s arm in comfort.

“I, uh, met Merle when Shane arrested him some time ago. He…” Carl replies, hesitating to tell him the next part. Rick looks at him expectantly. “He said some stuff about me, got Shane mad.”

Rick grabs his hand, looking very serious. “What did he say?”

Carl bites the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should tell Rick.

“Something about liking them young. And he may or may not have tried to grab me.” Carl almost grimaces at his own words. Rick looks absolutely furious. Carl has to hide his face as he says the next part. “Well, he did grab me. Don’t get mad, Dad! Shane handled it.”

Rick, utterly astounded, looks at Carl in disbelief.

“Is there anything else I should know?!”

The boy ducks his head in shame. “Negan and I have been talking for a while, and that’s his jacket.”

It takes a good minute for his words to sink in, until Rick really registers what he’s just said.

“Negan?”

“Yes.”

“Negan.” Rick has to repeat it. He turns to look at his boy. “Wha… _how_? Why?”

“I ran into him a while ago. He’s really nice to me, Dad,” Carl attempts to explain, but what can he say to justify being with a man like Negan?

Rick’s frowning, trying to understand what Carl’s saying, but it flies over his head. “He’s dangerous, Carl. So damn dangerous. Why would you be around him? How could you _think_ about doing that?”

“He helped me through your coma. I was alone and upset, and he was there,” he says. “Dad, he could have done anything, but all he did was be kind and tell me about you and be with me.”

His father’s shaking his head, clearly confused.

“He’s a criminal. He’s the leader of one of the most feared gangs in the East, Carl. He’s not good for you; you’re still young and naive. You don’t know anything about the real world. You could have gone to Shane; he could have told you everything you wanted! I don’t want you to be running around with Neg-”

It’s Carl’s turn to be upset, and he crosses his arms defensively. He hates getting angry at his father, but the man was really pushing the matter.

“No, Dad, _you_ don’t understand anything. I _only_ had Negan. And you of all people should know that there’s more to someone than their background. Yeah, he’s a criminal, but he’s one of the best people I’ve ever met!”

He gets up, not willing to stew on the subject any longer. He hears Rick call for him, apologizing for riling him up. Carl shuts his bedroom door and curls up in his bed. He regrets snapping at Rick already. It pisses him off so much that the mere mention of Shane’s name could make him so queasy. He pulls the covers over himself, trying to block out all his thoughts. Rain pitters against the window outside. He doesn’t realize when he falls into a deep sleep.

 

…

 

He wakes to Rick’s cool hand on his brow. He knows it’s Rick by the scent of him. Carl mewls softly, instinctively rolling over to curl up against the man where he sits on the edge of the bed. The smell of Rick’s five alarm chili wafts into the room. It makes his stomach rumble.

“Hey, buddy. You want some dinner?” Rick asks, voice barely disturbing the air. It’s pouring outside. Carl nods, hauling himself up. He’s about to kiss Rick until he remembers that he’s supposed to be mad at the man. Rick looks slightly rejected when Carl gets off the bed and pads to the bathroom without acknowledging him. After he’s scrubbed his face with cold water, he trudges downstairs to the kitchen. They eat on the veranda facing the backyard in silence, feeling the cool rain. Petrichor seeps off of the soaked grass outside, mixing with the scent of lilacs. Rick keeps throwing him tentative glances, and Carl wants to go over there and cling onto him and kiss him.

They clean up the dishes together, Rick washing and Carl drying. The moment that’s done, Carl runs back upstairs, afraid that spending another minute with Rick would break his resolve to be angry at him. It’s late into the night when Rick finally comes to him, looking beyond upset. He begs for forgiveness, literally on his knees by the time Carl gives in to his apologies. In a split second, Rick captures his lips, gently pulling him down onto the bed to cuddle Carl in his strong arms. They kiss for hours, until Carl’s just healed split lip opens and Rick jumps up to help staunch the flow of blood. He looks guilty, as if he were the one to have caused the cut (that Carl lied about).

 

…

 

 

Carl runs into Daryl one evening, as he’s making his way back home from the library. The man comes out of a convenience store with a bag in his hand, recognizing Carl where the boy is slumping home. He jogs over and bids a greeting to Carl. Carl’s eyes immediately brighten, but the split lip and bruised cheek dull his complexion. Daryl walks alongside him.

“Hey, Daryl,” he says, sounding tired and worn out.  

A surge of anger wells up in the man. Protectiveness, too, because this is Rick’s boy. Rick’s boy, who took time to check on his father when the wife should have been there, who doesn’t judge people on first glance, who makes the world a better place when everyone in his life has fucking failed him. Daryl pulls out a cool can of soda from his bag, handing over to the kid. Carl takes it gratefully, pressing it to his cheek before realizing what he’s doing and pulling it away. Daryl knows it must fucking hurt.

“Isn’t Rick off early today?” he asks. He notes that Carl smiles sweetly at the mention of his father. Daryl likes the look of his smile.

“Yeah,” Carl mutters. “Wanna eat dinner with us? I think he’s cooking.”

The way he says it is like a plead. Daryl wonders if the bastard Shane is going to be there; maybe that’s why Carl doesn’t look too happy to be going home.

“I’ll stay if you want,” he replies. The boy looks at him with a little glisten in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” Carl says. They walk further; Daryl studies Carl. Shane is gonna get it, Daryl is going to make sure of it. One day, he’s gonna regret ever laying his hands on this boy.

Dinner with the Grimes is a lovely affair- Rick is happy to have him over. Walsh is there, but he doesn’t even acknowledge Daryl. Carl always moves away from the man, scooting closer to Rick and Daryl. Daryl’s grateful Rick helped him get away from his own father. His experiences with Rick have always been positive, and he’s got something in mind to repay his debt. Something that involves removing the biggest threat in Carl’s life.

 

...

 

The little lilac ring on Rick’s pinky glimmers in the afternoon sun. Carl doesn’t contain the laugh he suddenly lets out. Rick turns to him with an amused smile.

“Is something funny?”

“You’re still wearing it?” Carl points to the ring. Rick pauses as he’s tying the herbs. He gives Carl an incredulous look.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

Carl laughs again, harder this time.

“It’s like a child’s ring,” he says, reaching for Rick’s hand. “And it barely fits your pinky.”

The man chuckles, looking at the dainty silver thing.

“Well, you gave it to me, so I’m gonna treasure it,” he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing. “Just like you take such good care of my ring.”

Carl smiles, still holding Rick’s hand. “You know we should just get matching rings then.”

Rick’s eyes light up at that.

“Would you like to?”

The boy nods. “Yeah, dad. I’d like that.”

“Then it’s settled.” Rick grins.

 

…

 

Rick has a get together one night, again, with several other police officers. They want to celebrate his well being and reposition as the head sheriff at an overnight resort. Lori’s supposed to be out with her friends, so Shane volunteers to watch Carl for the night. Carl almost asks to stay the night at Ron’s house, but he remembers he’s not allowed to bring him up around Shane. The first part of their night goes by relatively quietly, and it’s not until Carl is about to pass him to retreat to his bedroom that Shane grabs him. Carl fights him fervently, not wanting him to take what he’s always taken. Maybe it’s because of Rick and the unconditionally love he’s given to Carl that makes the boy want to end Shane’s abuse. Maybe it’s Negan and his persistent urging, but everyday, Carl’s resolve to tell his father everything grows stronger. Right now, Carl just wants Shane off of him.

The man shoves his face into the cushions on the sofa, muting his breaths so he can’t scream. Carl thrashes, crying out in pain when Shane sinks into him. Shane grunts and moans, keeping Carl as still as he can. Carl can see the trail of blood that slowly travels down his leg, dripping onto the suede fabric of the couch. He’s burning up, his body on overdrive as he attempts to get out of Shane’s grip. He loses track of time after a while; all he is aware of is the feeling of Shane stretching him open and the push and pull of his hole around Shane.

Eventually, Shane moves their position, knowing better than to let Carl ride him. He lays between the boy’s spread legs, plowing into the creamy little body with harsh, fast thrusts. His dick goes deeper into Carl at the new angle, and renewed pain spreads through Carl’s body. His whimpers and groans of pain do little to stop Shane from continuing.

“God, if your daddy walked in and saw us like this… he’d be so disgusted by you,” Shane suddenly speaks up. Carl clenches his teeth. “On the second thought, maybe he’d wanna do this to you, too. Fuck his own child and make you his.”

His words punch the air right out of Carl’s lungs. Shane’s too busy to notice his expression.

“Yeah, he would. Seeing his little boy all sweaty and red like this. I bet you rile him up, seduce him like you did me. Bet you’ve thought about it, haven’t you, Carl?” Shane pulls back to look at him, hands curling into Carl’s sweat damp hair. He has a repulsive smile on his face as he groans at the sight of the boy. He bends down to bite Carl’s neck, kissing and nibbling on his pale skin. “You’ve touched yourself thinking about Rick, right? I know you’re a kinky boy; I _know_ you get hot thinking about daddy putting his dick in you.”

Carl shudders, wondering how much of Shane’s words are true. He doesn’t want Rick like that. Their love is wholesome and innocent. Rick would never do such despicable things to him… would he? Shane’s thrusts become erratic, and Carl can tell that the subject is getting him off.

“I bet he’s touched you, sweetheart? Ooh, I’ll fucking bet that Rick couldn’t resist laying his finger on you, with you looking like this. If you were my son, I’d take you every chance I get. He ever see you fucked out, Carl? Cause you look so fucking good like this.”

He pulls out and slams back in, pulling a shout of pain from the boy. He laughs.

“God, it’d be so easy for him to give in. You could just grind your sweet little ass on his lap while he’s working or press up against him in bed. What I would give to be him,” he continues, grunting more and more with every messed up scenario he pictures. Carl grimaces when the last thrust further tears him open. “You’d want that right, Carl? You’d want Rick to fuck you like I do.”

Shane looks down at him expectantly, his eyes dull with arousal. Carl glares up at him, despite the pain that pulses through him.

“Fuck you, Shane. My dad is the most perfect person in the world. He wouldn’t rape me or play out any of your fucked up fantasies,” he spits, watching in satisfaction as Shane’s expression morphs into anger and shock. “I’ll never willingly be your bitch, even if you hit me and choke me. Rick will always be more of a man than you will ever be.”

The man doesn’t even respond, he just tugs Carl up by his hair and swings his fist. Carl cries and screams, pulling himself away from Shane.

“Carl, don’t make this harder on yourself. I’m gonna beat you bloody tonight, and you know better than to try and run. You know I can do _a lot_ worse,” Shane says, very calm and collected. He advances on Carl, fist turning red from the initall hits.

“Get away from me. Rick will kill you when I tell him what you’ve been doing to me,” Carl cries, in a last attempt to stop the man’s deadly intent. His cheek is already swelling up. Shane does jolt a little, frowning down at him, before laughing monotonously.

“You think he’ll believe you? Over _me_?” he exclaims, coming closer. “He’ll laugh at you, Carl. They all will! Think about what you’re accusing me of. Now, shut up and get over here.”

Shane hauls him up, throwing him onto the couch again. He punches Carl in the face, once, twice, until there’s blood running down Carl’s face. He can’t feel his nose, but his cheekbone is burning. He doesn’t hold back his cries, scrambling to push Shane off and get out of the room. They must have been making a ruckus loud enough to be heard outside the house. When Carl attempts to rush out of the room, Shane grabs him by the waist in a punishing grip and shoves him to the ground. Carl brings a knee up to Shane’s stomach, kicking hard. The man doesn’t budge, pushing his leg down to sit firmly on his stomach. His body is too heavy for Carl to try and push off.

“Pretty little thing like you, how’d you become so rebellious? Hanging with the Saviors is really bad influence,” Shane tuts, bringing a hand up to choke Carl. “I could say one word, _one word_ , Carl, and you’ll never see your precious Negan again. Rick will listen to anything I say. You want that, baby?”

Carl can’t even concentrate on his voice, tasting blood in his mouth where Shane hit him too hard. He rolls a mouthful of saliva and blood in his mouth and spits it at Shane. The man reaches up in disbelief, slowly wiping away the spit. He shuts his eyes, sighing.

“You’re pushing me, Carl, _pushing_ me.”

He slugs Carl in the stomach, and Carl feels blood well up in his throat. He splutters, coughing uncontrollably. Shane moves down, pushing Carl’s legs apart and hitching them over his shoulders. Carl lays limp, ready to give up, when the man enters his bruised body swiftly.

“I’m not letting you off, boy, so you better take it as obediently as I know you can.”

Shane is true to his word, and by the time he finally cums into Carl, the boy is practically a rag doll in his arms. He leaves him on the floor, huffing, and slams the door of the guest bedroom. It takes Carl a _long_ time to get up. His breaths come fast and short, and he knows he’s on the brink of hyperventilating. The pain coursing through his entire body is too much to bear. The first thing he wants is to take pain meds and wash all the blood and sweat off. Forcing himself to calm down and stop crying, Carl pulls on his clothes and makes his way to the cupboard in the kitchen where the medicine is kept. He nearly jolts out of his skin when he sees Lori sitting at the island counter.

At first glance, he can tell that she’s been crying. Her face is blotchy and red, her eyes are glassy, and her hands are shaking. He knows, right then and there, that she witnessed it all. He decides against speaking to her, as he dry swallows a couple pills. His blood drips all over the floor, but he makes no move to clean it up. Several times, he’s sure she’d say something, but she holds herself back. And he hates her so much.

 

…

 

His bruises are so terrible that one of his teachers pulls him out of class to ask about them. He makes an excuse about PE and brushes her off when she pushes him to call his parents. Carl had run out of the house early in the morning to avoid Rick. It’s been four days since the incident, and the bruises have begun to turn green around the edges. The ones on his cheek and bridge of his nose are very evident. After school, if Rick has time off, Carl stays out long into the night, until the man has no choice but to go back to his duties.

Shane and Rick come home early together after patrol one night, and Lori sets the table for them, resolutely not looking at Carl. Rick fusses over the bruises on Carl’s face, demanding to know what happened. Carl knows he doesn’t believe his excuses, but with Shane here, there’s nothing he can really do.

“It’s worrying how many bruises you’re getting from PE these days, Carl,” Rick remarks, looking very concerned. “Maybe I should go in and have a chat with your coach.”

Carl shakes his head adamantly. “No, it’s fine, Dad. I’m just… always distracted.”

Shane smirks. “ _Distracted_. Your boy’s the clumsiest I know.”

Rick bats the man on the arm before turning back to Carl with a tender look. “Carl, honey, please be more careful.”

Carl almost shrinks at the glare Shane sends him when Rick reaches over to brush his hair out of his eyes. They eat with relative normality, but Carl has to kick himself to stop grimacing everytime Shane mentions him. Right before the man leaves for the night, he crowds Carl up against the wall opposite the front door, away from prying eyes. Carl can hear Rick and Lori talking about something in the kitchen. Shane brings a hand up to touch the boy’s cheek, stroking the painful bruise there.

“I don’t have to remind you to not breathe a word of this to Rick, right, sweetheart?” he whispers, looking down at Carl. The boy swallows thickly, trying to tug out of his grasp. “Carl. Don’t make me ask again.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Shane. Please let go, Dad’s in the next room,” he pleads, just as Rick reenters the room, and in an instant, Shane releases him. Rick smiles oddly at them.

“What are you two up to?” he asks, looking fairly amused. Shane sends him a relaxed smile.

“Carl wanted to see me out,” he replies, swiftly avoiding suspicion. Rick shakes his head, chuckling. He waves a hand at them.

“Alright, shoo, then. Grab an umbrella, Carl; it’s pouring out there.”

Shane drags the boy outside with him, not bothering to open the umbrella as they stumble to his car. The rain is stronger tonight than the days before. Carl cries out in pain when Shane pushes him into the backseat and hungrily moves for his mouth. His kisses are all teeth and tongue, and Carl grunts in pain as his bruises bump against the seat and Shane’s heavy body. He tries to keep his lips sealed.

“Open your mouth, Carl. Open it,” the man pants against his mouth, licking at him. Carl does, and Shane quickly takes the lead again.

When the man deems it’s enough, he sends Carl back to the house with a hard slap to his ass. Carl holds back tears as he reenters the house and quickly goes upstairs to change out of his dripping clothes. Rick comes up soon after, holding a glass of warm milk and a plate of cookies. He smiles at the sight of his boy, curled up on the window seat with his worn pillows and soft throw. Carl offers him a drowsy smile, setting aside his books. Rick shuts the door and sits down beside him. They share the chocolate chip cookies, the same ones that Rick makes whenever Carl’s sad. Rick just holds him and wraps his big hands around Carl’s waist.

 

…

 

“I kissed him,” Carl says out of nowhere.

Negan frowns. “Who?”

The boy’s expression is blank, eyes far away, like it usually is after Shane’s done something terrible.

“My dad. I kissed him on the mouth.”

Negan is silent for a beat.

“Did you want it?” he asks, voice soft. Carl nods.

“More than I ever thought.”

A pause. “Does he want it?”

“I think so.” Carl bites his lip. “Shane told me Rick only wants me for sex.”

The man resumes stroking Carl’s hair. They’re laying in bed; Carl’s soft skin is bared and pressed against Negan’s warmer body.

“Your dad loves you because you’re his everything. Not because of sex.”

“Shane also said that I want him to fuck me.”

“... was he right?” Negan shifts to look at him. Carl doesn’t meet his gaze.

“I don’t know what I want from my dad.”

Negan purses his lips. “Are you guys sexual?”

Carl sits up to lean against the headboard. Negan follows suit. “No… well, I came in my pants when he was kissing me yesterday.”

The man doesn’t even blink. “You know it isn’t normal. Doing stuff like that with your father.”

The boy hums in agreement. “Lori said that a while ago. They argued. They’re still getting over the fight.”

“I know you love him- I’ve seen you with him- so I’m not gonna tell you that you shouldn’t do it,” Negan finally responds. “But if it feels wrong, don’t do it.”

“It feels right. He makes he feel… right.”

“... do I make you feel right?”

Carl turns to crawl on top of him, pressing fluttering kisses to his lips. “Everytime.”

 

…

 

Rick is completing some paperwork at his desk at home when he hears a small commotion outside. Thinking that it’s Lori and her friends or Shane, he’s surprised to see Carl storm into his office. The boy shuts the door and pressed the lock firmly before making his way to Rick’s desk. Rick still flinches at the sight of Carl’s bruises. Rick knew he lied about them, but the boy refuses to say anymore. Carl has a very serious expression on his face as he puts his hands on Rick’s desk, staring at him hard.

“Dad, I need you to answer me very honestly. Because I need to know,” Carl says (demands, really). He’s pink in the cheeks and panting, like he’s run all the way home from school. Rick nods, eyes wide and wonder what in the world Carl wanted to know this badly. His boy takes a deep breath. “What do you want from me?”

When Rick stays staring at him in confusion, Carl sighs and runs a hand through his hair nervously.

“What do you want from this?” He gestures between them, looking intently at him. “From me?”

Rick struggles to answer, completely confused. “W-what do I want? You. Your happiness. Carl, I’m not sure what you mean.”

Carl suddenly looks very apprehensive, like he’s expecting something bad from Rick.

“Is it sex?” he asks, averting his eyes. “Do you want me for sex?”

Rick stutters again, unsure what Carl is asking for. “No! Well, i-if you want that. I don’t know; I never thought about it. I wouldn’t just… what’s wrong, honey? Why are you asking me this?”

The boy before him falls silent, but Rick recognizes his nervous ticks. He gets up from his chair and comes around to gently lead Carl onto the loveseat in the center of the room. He caresses the boy’s cheek, running his fingers through Carl’s hair lovingly. He wonders if his previous actions had made Carl uncomfortable.

“What are your intentions with me, Dad? If I asked you for sex, would you give it to me?” Carl asks, voice very small. Rick frowns.

“I just want to love you, Carl. That’s all I ever wanted, all I ever _want_. I want you to be happy and loved and protected. That’s all,” he replies, still stroking Carl’s bruised cheek and neck. “I honestly never thought about sex with you. I don’t want to hurt you- you’re my baby, and I don’t want to be someone who undermines your innocence like that. If… if you decide that sex is what you want and what’ll make you happy, then it’s… something we have to discuss. But I will never try and take it from you. Because you’re my child, my everything, Carl.”

“... is this weird? Do I make you feel disgusting?” Carl says. Rick shakes his head.

“Definitely not. You and me… it feels right. I’m happy with you.”

The boy is silent for a long time, mulling over his words with a lot of thought. Rick tilts his head to look the him in the eyes. Carl meets his reluctantly. Rick offers a tiny smile of encouragement.

“I love you, Carl. I really really do.”

“I love you, too, Dad. I’m sorry.”

Rick shakes his head firmly. “No apologizing, baby. I understand if you want to sort things out. I’m always here for you.”

Carl nods and leans in to press the sweetest little kiss to his lips. Rick immediately reciprocates, wrapping his arms around the boy. They part with content smiles, and Carl wants to tell him so bad. It’s so easy, with Rick looking down at him so lovingly. There’d be no doubt if Carl told him. He wills himself to be strong.

“Dad, right before the accident, Sha-.”

The sound of Rick’s cell phone cuts him off, and Rick gives him an apologetic look. It’s his boss and they both know there’s no missing it. Rick answers, frowning at the man’s words. Carl knows that he’s being called in, and he can only offer a rueful smile. When the call is done, Rick turns back to him.

“What were you going to say, Carl? I have to head for work in a minute, but you can still tell me.”

The boy shakes his head. “It’s nothing important, dad. You get ready; let me get your dinner packed.”

Rick hesitates but eventually decides to let it go. He nods, pulling Carl in for a last kiss before heading upstairs to change into his uniform.

 

…

 

There’s a tension between Shane and Rick and Carl so thick that they can almost cut it. Rick’s grown weary of Shane, all of the sexual jokes about Carl and his erratic behavior have shown Rick just how much he’s changed. He’s noticed Carl’s withdrawal everytime the man’s around, as well. Rick doesn’t know exactly what went on in those 20 months, but he knows that the way they’re acting is completely different than when Carl was still young. It’s like they’re all holding their breaths for something to happen for ages. They dance around it for days, weeks, until none of them can deny it any longer.

Shane’s been suspicious of Carl for ages. Ever since Negan’s threat, he’s constantly cornered the boy to make sure he doesn’t say a word of the 20 months to anyone else. Maybe he’s seen Rick’s unconditional love for Carl or the way they seem inseparable these days because his behavior has become so violent that Carl is sure he’d explode. The night before, Shane had randomly lashed out at him, dragging him by the hair to the kitchen counter and bending him over. He had threatened and yelled at Carl to keep his mouth shut.

Carl doesn’t expect the man to finally lose it one evening when he stumbles in on Rick and Carl, huddled into each other's’ arms in the armchair by the fireplace. Lori had left for work, leaving them alone for the night. Rick nuzzles his face into the boy’s neck, smiling and inhaling deeply. Shane’s expression morphs into one of pure hatred and jealousy, and he grabs Carl by the arm and rips him away from Rick. Rick frowns, getting up from the seat.

“What are you doing?” Shane demands, voice raised. Rick reaches over to guide Carl back to him, but Shane refuses to let go of Carl’s wrist.

“What am I doing?” Rick says, confused. “I’m spending time with my son.”

Carl turns to Shane, bewildered. Rick’s eyes fall on the man’s hand, where he’s gripping Carl painfully hard. The boy’s hand is trembling, red from the pressure. The father in Rick grows angry, possessive.

“Let go of my son, Shane.” He orders, tone hard. “Why are you here? Do you need something?”

Shane doesn’t let Carl go; in fact, he tugs Carl closer to himself. Rick grits his teeth.

“I have something important to tell you, and it’s about that sonofabitch Negan. You’re not gonna like it.” He doesn’t even look at Carl, whose eyes grow impossibly wide, and he looks up at Shane in shock.

Rick comes closer, free hand curling around Shane’s wrist above Carl’s.

“I’ll listen when you let go of Carl,” he repeats, eyes steady. Shane doesn’t back off, and Carl suddenly fears the worst.

“He raped Carl, Rick. Negan’s been fucking your boy,” Shane lies, voice smooth and silky. And just like that Rick freezes. Emotions- shock, dread, anger, and disbelief- pass across his face, and Carl can’t help but cry out in helplessness.

“No!” He shouts at the same time Rick whispers “no”.

Shane nods, and Carl knows him well enough to see the smugness in his stature.

“I saw the bruises,” he goes on, lying so perfectly. “Carl told me. He was too scared to tell you, and Negan kept threatening him. I tried to arrest him, Rick, but he gave me a fucking black eye. Remember a couple weeks ago? He told me he’d start all out war if I told you.”

Rick shakes his head, muttering to himself. He suddenly jolts, turning to face Carl and cupping his face in his large hands.

“Carl, my baby,” he cries, sounding so lost. His eyes are red with tears. “Is this true? Did Negan do that to you?”

Carl shakes his head adamantly. “No, no… he didn’t, dad. He didn’t!”

Shane tsks. “See this is what I mean. The boy’s in denial.”

“You don’t have to feel scared or guilty, Carl. I failed you. I’m your father, and I failed you,” Rick rants, holding him. “It’s my job to protect you.”

Behind Rick’s back, Shane grins, and Carl feels a pang of rage course through his body.

“You’ve seen the bruises, too, haven’t you?” Shane continues, hiding the smile when Rick turns to him in horror. “Negan’s vile. I told you to arrest him those years ago. We should have. He’s feral; you should see the way he is with Carl. I need your help to detain him.”

Carl shoots up, lunging at Shane. Rick grabs him before he can do any real harm, holding his arms down.

“You liar! You know it’s not Negan! Fucking hypocrite!” He screams, trying to get to him.

“Carl, don’t. You don’t have to protect Negan,” Rick pleads.

Carl struggles to get loose, all the anxiety and fear of revealing his huge secret to Rick piling up inside of him. The pressure in his chest builds and builds, has been building since that fateful night, until it just spews out of him.

“It was Shane, dad. Negan never touched me like that,” he says, tears running down his face. He’s trembling so hard, his entire body racking with sobs. Shane’s whole body goes rigid. Rick’s eyes fill with betrayal. “Right before your coma, when you and mom were out on your anniversary weekend, he took me to bed and he…. Negan would never hurt me like that. And mom knew. She let Shane move in, and the alcohol changed them. These 20 months have been hell-.”

He breaks off with a shuddering sob, falling against his father. The man straightens, brushing his tears away, and stares Shane down. Shane’s eyes are downcast, his hair obscuring their view of his eyes.

“Is this true Shane?” Rick asks, and his hand moves to the pocket that he keeps his knife. It’s over; Carl can see the way Rick’s whole body language changes, shifting to his police persona. He gently eases Carl behind his body, protective. Carl knows he believes him, can feel it in the way Rick vibrates with anger. When Shane doesn’t answer, the truth is set in concrete. “My son? You chose to prey on _my son_?”

And Shane starts laughing. Rick grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches. When Shane looks up, Carl can see just how lost he’s really gotten. He looks murderous, dangerous, volatile.

“Damn it, Rick. Everything was working, everything was mine. You don’t know how hard I worked to get this far. When you were shot… I was fucking upset, ‘cause you were my brother,” he begins, smirking and shaking his head. “But for the first time, I could do things my way. Lori fell for me real quick, and Carl? Hell, I thought he’d just be a pretty fuck. Young, barely in high school, and pink.”

Rick’s fingers curl around the handle of his knife, his free hand pushing Carl further behind him.

“Why’d you have to come back, Rick? Why didn’t you just die in the hospital? Everything coulda turned out fine. I’m a better man than you. I’m good for Lori. For Carl.”

He suddenly draws his gun and points it at Rick, finger on the trigger. Carl gasps, trying to get Rick out of the way.

“You’re gonna kill me in cold blood? Screw my wife, _my boy_ ? Have Carl call you daddy? Is that what you want? That life won’t be worth a _damn_. You won’t be able to live with yourself.” Rick says, looking at the stranger before him. He thought knew Shane once; this isn’t the same man anymore.

“See that’s where you’re wrong. You got no idea what I can live with!” Shane shouts, keeping the gun aimed at him. “I could kill you right now; I won’t even bat an eye. Lori’ll get over you. Carl will forget about you once I’m back between his legs where I should be. He’ll call me daddy, like he’s been doing for these months. I’ll take _real good_ care of him as his stepdad and the head sheriff-”

With a roar, Rick lunges at him, hitting the gun out of Shane’s hand. It fires towards the ceiling somewhere as they go down. Carl cries out, rushing to get in between them to prevent Shane from hurting Rick. He’s never seen his dad so angry. He knows Shane’s lost it, and he knows just how strong he is. Rick claws at Shane’s face, punching him hard in the nose. Shane rolls him off, using his body weight to keep Rick under him. He tries to strangle him, pressing his elbow into Rick’s throat. Protectiveness surges in him, and Carl shoves him off, blocking Rick just in time for Shane to land a backhand across his face. His father shouts, pulling his knife out to slash at Shane. He draws blood, a lot of it, but Shane barely flinches. Carl can almost see the black rage behind his clouded eyes.

“I’m gonna kill you, Shane Walsh. For taking my wife and violating my son.” Rick snarls, blood running down his temple from where Shane slammed his head onto the floor. They get into another scuffle, but this time, Shane uses his advantage to throw Rick against the wall. Carl screams just as he bashes Rick against the fireplace mantel. Rick collapses to the ground, blood all over his face. Shane turns and reaches for his pistol, but Carl grabs him, trying to prevent him from aiming at Rick. He needs an ambulance, _fast_.

“I can end this! I _will_ end this!” Shane screams, hitting Carl in the head with the butt of the gun. The boy falls, world spinning. Blood clouds his eyes. “He’ll be gone, and I’ll have you to myself. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

Shane climbs on top of him, gun still in his hand, and tries to kiss him. Carl struggles, pushing at him. The man grows irritated, punching him across the face several times to stop his squirming.

“You’re gonna regret this, Shane! You can’t do it! _Please_!”

The man grips him by the throat and sits up.

“I can, and I will. Now, you watch, baby. I’m gonna shoot your daddy in the head, and you’re gonna watch me do it.” Shane points the gun at Rick, ready to shoot.

Carl sobs, hands grappling around to find something, anything, to stop Shane. His hand comes into contact with the fireplace tool stand, and he curls his fingers around the poker. Without thinking, he pulls it to himself and swings up. It arches and smashes into the side of Shane’s head. The man is momentarily blinded, the gun skidding to the opposite side of the room. Carl pushes him off and runs to where his phone is laid on the coffee table. Shane grabs him by the leg, tripping him. The man’s face is just as bloody as Rick’s, and he leans over Carl, grip deathly tight. He takes Carl’s phone and flings it against the wall. A dismal shattering sound.

“Don’t make me kill you, too, Carl,” he warns, voice low. Carl gasps when the man’s hands land on the band of his jeans, and he struggles harder. The man backhands him again, and Carl’s vision almost goes black, _almost_. “Let’s get these clothes off, shall we?”

Shane rips his shirt, tearing the collar open. Carl yelps, crying out in fear. Turning his head, he sees his father lying there still. He could be dead. If Carl doesn’t act now, he could be dead. Panic and rage fuels him to push as hard as he can to get Shane off. He races to the kitchen, gripping the first steak knife he sees. Shane enters a moment later, movements slugged.

“Get back, Shane. I’m warning you!” he shouts, huffing and leaning a hand on the counter to prevent himself from falling. The man laughs, advancing still.

“What are you going to do, Carl? Kill me? You wouldn’t fucking dare. You need me, sweetheart. You can’t live without me.”

Carl’s heart thumps in his chest, racking his ribs. Shane’s words ring in his head.

“I will, Shane. After everything you’ve done? My father could be dead because of you.”

“Have you ever loved me, Carl? Have you ever loved me like you love Rick?” he suddenly asks, looking at him desperately. The blood running down his face combined with his pitiful expression makes him look pathetic.

“No. I never loved you,” Carl says, voice monotone.

Shane runs at him, and Carl does the only thing he can- he swings the knife and buries it into Shane’s shoulder. The man only looks at him, chuckling deep in his throat. Blood gushes from his shoulder. Carl’s eyes widen at what he’s done, just as the man topples to the ground. Shaking and stumbling from exhaustion and exertion, Carl rushes to the home phone and dials the cops.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance please. My dad, Rick, he- he’s bleeding all over the floor. Please send help as soon as possible!” He cries, swaying on his feet. He feels just about to blackout.

“Carl?” He recognizes Maggie’s voice, the reception lady at the front desk in the station. She sounds worried. “The ambulance will be there soon. What happened?”

“Shane, he…” The whole world tilts, and Carl completely loses consciousness.

 

…

 

When he comes to in the hospital bed, his first instinct is to find his father, but a warm hand rests on his stomach to keep him from moving too much.

“Sleep, honey,” a deep, rich voice commands him. He succumbs to his heavy eyelids.

 

…

 

The next time he opens his eyes, there’s birds chirping outside the window. He smells lilacs and some expensive French perfume from somewhere. He doesn’t even fully register Sherry and the Pink Ladies before he’s knocked out again.

 

…

 

Carl wakes gently one afternoon to the sound of Vance Joy singing on the radio. His eyes feel crusty, his mouth tastes bland and dry, and his body aches from laying down. The heart monitor’s constant beeping irritates him, and he reaches over to find a way to stop the sound.

“Whoa, there, kiddo,” a voice says from the doorway. Carl peers over and finds Negan and Daryl coming over, bags in their hands.

Negan beams at him, looking tired and a bit worn out.

“How’re you feeling, Carl?” he asks, sitting down on the chair next to the bed. Up close, Carl can see how sunken his eyes look, how deep his eyebags are. He clears his throat, grimacing at the dryness. Negan has a cup of cold water to his lips before he has to ask. “You scared the shit out of us. The scene the cops arrived to was like a bloodbath.”

Daryl changes the flowers, replacing the drooping lilacs with violet hydrangea. Carl smiles a little at him, and Daryl returns the gesture. Negan runs a hand through Carl’s hair.

“I’m sorry; I’m fine. Where’s my dad?” he asks once he’s able to.

“He’s fine, darling, just fine.”

Carl sits up quickly. “Can I see him?”

His voice cracks unattractively on the second word. Negan bites back a grin, pushing him back down again.

“No, Carl, not right now,” he says. “The doc says you can see him once you’re well enough to walk on your own.”

Carl has the nerve to scowl at him. They laugh.

“Did I kill him?” he asks, figuring that one of them has to bring Shane up. Daryl and Negan fall silent, their smiles slipping off their faces. Negan brings a hand up to scrub his own face, looking solemn.

“No, he’s… still recovering. You and your daddy did quite a number on him.”

The boy bites his lips. “How long were we out?”

“Rick woke up the day after the incident- told everyone what happened. You’ve been out for 45 hours,” Daryl says, hesitating to say the next part. “... the station’s pressing charges once Walsh wakes. We’re looking 20- 40 years in the state prison.”

Carl takes a sharp gasp of air as he begins to tremble. “Why so long?” His words are laced with fear, as if he’s scared that Shane’s listening to him.

Negan lays a warm hand on his cheek, caressing his face.

“Honey, he’s being charged with aggravated sexual assault in the first degree,” he explains. “That’s a class A felony.”

Carl’s quiet for a moment, trying to process everything, when he speaks again, his voice is watery and soft.

“Everyone knows, then? What he did to me?”

The two men nod, unable to say more. Carl nods, too. And suddenly, he starts crying. The heart monitor goes frantic, and Carl realizes he’s hyperventilating. The nurses and doctor rush in, pushing past Negan to sedate him. Carl can’t stop crying even after the doctors leave him alone for now and Negan clutches his hand.

 

…

 

NEGAN

 

When he gets the call from Michonne, he drops everything and gets on his motorcycle so fast he forgets to lock his front door. The hospital is a mess, everyone whispering about the head sheriff’s boy and the sexual assault that took place over the course of almost two years. Negan is surprised to find not only Daryl waiting to see Carl, but also the Pink Ladies and Lori. Carl’s mother looks blank faced, like nothing is being registered in her mind. Negan pulls aside any doctor or nurse he comes across, asking for Carl’s condition. Michonne fills him in on what happened.

Rick is awake quicker than expected, already fully coherent and alert by the time Negan gets there. He wants to see Carl, obviously, but he’s still too weak to move. Surprisingly, he doesn’t call to see his wife- he calls for Negan. The man is staring out the window, lost in thought, when Negan enters the room.

“Sheriff? You asked for me?” he asks respectfully. It dawns on him that this man is the father of the boy he’s in love with.

Rick turns to face him, his blue- grey eyes startlingly beautiful. He studies Negan for a long time, looking as if he wants to know everything he’s ever done, thought, and said. Finally, he releases a quiet sigh.

“I know that you and Carl have been in a relationship,” he begins. “But I’m not gonna stop it or arrest you because Carl told me what you did for him while I was in the coma. Just… if you _ever_ hurt him, I swear to god, Negan.”

He walks to the edge of the bed, sitting down on the lone chair.

“I won’t harm him, Rick. I promise,” he assures him. “He’s precious to me.”

Rick huffs a breath, eyebrows furrowing as he turns towards the window.

“I know you, Negan. I’ve known you for more than a decade, and I’ve seen the things you’ve done. But I know you’re not a liar, and Carl told me to look past your crimes.” He says, fists clenching. “So I’m gonna turn a blind eye.”

Negan nods, a bit unsure that he heard the man correctly. They’re silent for a while.

“He’s gonna recover just fine,” Negan says, knowing how much the man must be worrying. “You need to focus on recovery yourself. You and Shane really hurt each other.”

If Negan hadn’t been paying attention, he might have missed the tear that trails down Rick’s cheek. The man doesn’t make a move to wipe it off.

“What kind of father doesn’t realize that his own child is being assaulted? In his own house?” he whispers, and it’s the only sound in the room aside from the heart monitor. “How did I not realize? It was right in front of me. I saw the bruises all the _damn_ time.”

He looks to Negan desperately. Negan shakes his head.

“Carl hid it well. He spent so long trying to conceal everything that you couldn’t have possibly known. He doesn’t blame you, so stop putting it all on yourself. Don’t dwell on things you can’t change. Just focus on helping Carl past the trauma.”

Rick wipes a tear away, blinking rapidly. Negan can see so much of Carl in him.

“How long have you known about Shane?” he asks, no judgement in his tone at all.

Negan hates himself when he replies, “A few months”.

Rick nods.

“Have you ever wanted to hurt him?”

“I wanted to kill him.” Negan admits. Rick nods, eyes far away.

“I’ve never felt so helpless. I’m lying in bed, unable to move, when my son’s abuser is in the next room. I’m not strong enough to kill a man I’ve called my brother for 20 years. I’m not strong enough to run him out of town.”   
And then Negan realizes where this is going.

“I could make him disappear, Rick. I told your boy once, and I’m telling you now. I could make him go away forever,” he says, leaning in. His entire demeanor is serious, and Rick believes him. “It doesn’t have to be murder. The Saviors could run him out of town. It’s a debt we still owe you.”

Rick can see the genuity in the man’s eyes. He thinks about it, losing Shane forever, and it’s worth it, he concludes. It’s worth it because of all the shit the man’s done to Carl.

“It’s your choice, Rick. You could say no, and we’ll back off. Shane will rot in prison for as long as you want.” Negan adds, when Rick’s silence grows.

It’s not enough just for Shane to sit in prison, knowing he’d be out in 15 years. He’s still young, he’ll figure something out. No, Rick can’t have that. He wants the man to suffer. He needs Shane to regret ever touching Carl. He surprises himself with how barbaric he is.

“Do it,” he says, watching Negan raise his eyebrows in surprise. “I want him gone. I don’t want Carl to ever come across him again, not at the trial, not ever.”

“Then consider it done.”

By the time Michonne comes back in to check on Rick, Negan has to head out. At the door, Rick calls him one last time.

“And Negan? You beat him hard, for me, because I can’t do it. I hate myself for that.”

 

…

 

“Tell me something, anything.”

Negan looks at the sweet boy before him, smiling at the way Carl peers shyly up at him on the hospital bed. He’s got a concussion and bruises all over his face, but he’s still the most gorgeous thing Negan’s ever laid his eyes on. Smiling, he sits down and holds Carl’s hand. He thinks, really think, about something nice to tell, something that happened before the crime and gangs.

“Alright, so, 2003, Lucille bought these tickets to some girly boy band that she adored. She was supposed to go with a friend, but _low and behold_ , the day of, this chick cancels on her. So, Luci’s all bummed out, and I’m like ‘shit, can’t have that’, so I tell her I’ll go with her.” Negan says, noting the way Carl’s eyes glisten at the mention of Lucille. It still hurts to talk about her, but Negan is surprised how easily he recalls the story. “Keep in mind, I freaking hated this Maroon 5 newby pop band, but I was a damn nice guy. So, we got all dressed up; it was a hot summer day, we were wearing shorts and t-shirts. We got there, I’m miserable ‘cause there’s teenagers and women there. We waited for hours to get in, and it’s a freaking open arena. It’s humid, everyone’s sweaty, Lucille’s having a blast.”

Carl hangs on to every word, looking at him in wonder.

“The band starts, they were just shy looking guys with an amazing lead singer. Damn, but I hated their first couple of songs. They start this new song, a groovy, rocky, my type of song, and then, out of nowhere, thunder sounds and rain begins pouring. _Pouring_ , Carl, like flood- our- vision pouring. Everyone starts hollering the lyrics, the band doesn’t stop singing, and we’re all dancing.”

His eyes tear up a bit, thinking back to that time. Carl’s little hands in his are the only things that anchor him to the present.

“Lucille grabs me and starts pulling me along, swaying and singing. And the leader guy’s singing ‘ _I cannot forget, refuse to regret, so glad I met you, and take my breath away, make everyday worth all of the pain that I have gone through’._ ” He sings it, and his voice is rugged and husky and beautiful. “We’re all soaked in rain and laughing so hard.”

He shakes his head, looking down. When he meets Carl’s eyes again, his eyes are misty. “That was the best fucking day of my life.”

 

…

 

A couple days before the trial, Rick knows the deed is done because when he sees Negan, the man’s sporting a heavy bruise on his cheekbone. The man comes by the Grimes residence, and Rick hears Carl’s footsteps going down the stairs and running to the door. Rick catches them kissing, Negan’s big hand cradling Carl’s head into his palm. They part with shy smiles, and Carl says something in an alarmed tone, reaching up to touch his bruised skin. Rick heads over and invites Negan in. Carl hangs his head a little, looking guilty.

“Hey, Rick,” he greets politely. Rick returns the greeting. Carl tugs Negan, by the hand, to the kitchen, where he makes coffee for the three of them. For a moment, all of them sit in silence, none of them ready to bring up the court hearing scheduled for later that week. They still don’t know what to do about Lori.

“Everything’s gonna go smoothly,” Rick assures them. “Just be honest. I know the judge, and he’s a good man. Shane’ll get what’s coming.”

Carl swallows, palms sweating.

“What if he tries to talk to me?” he mutters, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

Rick tries not to feel possessive when the other man leans over and rests a hand on his child’s thigh.

“He’s not gonna have a chance. We’re all gonna be there. Me, Daryl, Michonne, the Pink Ladies. Don’t even worry about that.” Negan says, voice softer and more tender than Rick’s ever heard.

Carl looks up at him with big eyes, and Rick clears his throat.

“Negan and I will be right next to you the whole time. If you get scared, just look at us.”

Rick runs a hand through Carl’s hair, pulling him in to kiss his forehead. The boy doesn’t give him a chance to pull away, bringing his arms up to drag Rick into a tight hug. Rick wraps his arms around Carl, sighing deeply. Negan meets Rick’s gaze over Carl’s shoulder, and he nods, once. And Rick mouths back a ‘thank you’.

 

…

 

The night before the trials, Carl is so consumed by guilt that he just drops everything and rushes to Rick. The man looks up from his silent daze, where he’s sitting on the living room couch. Carl stands before him, worrying his lower lip. Rick reaches up to take his hands.

“What’s up, honey?”

Carl takes a deep breath, heart hammering.

“I’m not a good person, dad,” he says. Rick frowns.

“Carl, what are you talking about? You’re amazing.”

He shakes his head and blurts out his confession before either of them can say anymore. “I was sleeping around, sneaking out of the house at night. I did some horrible things. I’m sorry.”

Rick’s eyes get impossibly sadder, and Carl swallows thickly, mouth dry. Rick’s next words are nothing that he imagined.

“I’m sorry, too, Carl. I should have been there.”

His father has tears in his eyes, and he beckons Carl to come closer, curling his arms tight around his child protectively. Carl burrows as far as he can into Rick’s chest, trying to crush every ounce of space between them.

“It’s gonna be okay, Carl. I’ll make sure of that.”

 

…

 

Shane doesn’t show up. They send people to his house, but all they find is a paper addressed to Carl. It’s an apology, with the simple line “ _Forgive me, Carl_ ” written in Shane’s familiar scrawl. Their judge, Hershel Greene, has no choice but to continue without the defendant’s testimony. The trial passes fairly quickly, and it’s clear from the very beginning that no one is going to let Shane off easy. Carl retells the events of the first night, and the days that followed, reaching all the way to where they stand today. There’s sniffles in the room, people from town (neighbors, friends, teachers) are all appalled by what the man has done to an innocent child. Carl cries twice, needing to stop in the middle of telling Hershel about the most vicious beating. The man is supportive, letting Carl recover patiently before asking him to continue in a gentle voice.

Everyone is there for him, Sherry, Frankie, Amber, Tanya, Michonne, Daryl, Negan, and Rick. Lori’s there too, but she’s so far away, it’s like she isn’t even there. Rick and Negan reassure him with their presence next to him, but Carl can see his father keeping himself together when he hears about the night Shane raped him when he was 13. Witnesses come to the stand, telling the judge what they’ve heard and seen. Neighbors recall screams and crying. Teachers tell of Carl’s isolation and silence. Michonne mentions the bruises and tears. When the lawyers start interrogating Lori like she’s guilty of the crimes as well, Carl defends her, putting the blame on her grief about her husband’s coma and the alcohol she used to cope. The evidence is presented in photographs of Carl’s terrible bruises and Shane’s semen from the rape kit.

In the end, Hershel sentences Shane to 40 years in the federal state prison. Carl is shaken, but he doesn’t feel the closure he thought he would. Instead, all he can feel is dread and sadness, and he hates himself for the part of him that still misses Shane. The search for Shane continues, a nationwide search, and Rick thanks Hershel before ushering Carl out of the courtroom and to the car. The ride home is silent except for Carl’s tiny whimpers and sniffs. Lori doesn’t say a word. Negan sits beside Carl, wrapping his arms around him when the boy starts to sob.

Later that night, Rick’s soothing voice lulls him to sleep, and he sleeps with Rick’s comforting scent wrapped around him like a sheet.

 

…

 

One day, Rick decides he’s put off talking to Lori for too long. Carl looks up from the couch, where he’s curled up in contemplation, when he comes walking in with a purpose.

“Lori, Carl, we need to talk,” he announces, sitting at the head of the dinner table. The two of them come over silently, both knowing what exactly they need to discuss.

Rick doesn’t go easy on her. He makes sure she knows exactly where she fucked up, exactly where she let Carl down.

“You let a rapist come into our home and violate our son for 20 months. And you have the nerve to blame him? Call him a whore, say that he seduced Shane? What happened to you, Lori? I feel like I don’t even know who you are anymore!”

She stays still, eyes glazed over, and Carl thinks that her silence is what pushes Rick to the edge. He loses his composure.

“Don’t you have something to say to your son? An apology? That’s the least you can do! He protected you in court, Lori, when you could have easily been seen as an accomplice to Shane’s crimes. He did that! Carl _protected you_ when you couldn’t even give a crap about him!”

Lori doesn’t say anything to Carl, and Carl realizes that somewhere down the line, she lost all her words for him. He looks away, taking a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. Rick snaps at her.

“Get out,” he says. She look down at the floor like she had expected him to say it. “Get the hell out until you forget your pride and apologize to Carl for putting him through hell.”

She just calmly gets up and goes upstairs to get her stuff. It doesn’t take long; Carl suspects she already packed her essentials a long time ago. When she comes back down stairs, Carl pulls himself away from his father and goes to the door with her. She steps out, pausing for a moment before turning to him. Her eyes are red rimmed, but she sheds no tears.

“I… I saw him hit you,” she says, whispers it like it’s a confession of sorts. “I saw the things he was doing to you, and I don’t know _why_ I never said anything.”

Carl swallows thickly, and she shakes her head. She opens her mouth to say something, but she catches herself and heads to her car. As he watches her drive away, Rick’s warm hand lays on his shoulder, and he shuts the door quietly.

He has a feeling he won’t be seeing her for a long time.

 

…

 

Her departure only settles in that night when Carl passes their- Rick’s- room and notices the bare vanity table. He steps into the near empty room and takes in the sight of Lori’s missing clothes and jewelry. Her perfume lingers in the room, still, but the place feels hollow without her presence. Carl’s eyes burn and suddenly, he’s crying, sobbing into his hands. He feels like someone carved a piece of him right from his heart. Rick’s footsteps sound closer as he hurries to Carl, and his arms engulf the boy in a suffocating embrace.

He cries into his father’s shoulder, tears soaking into his shirt.

“We’re gonna be fine, Carl. We’re gonna be just fine, the two of us.”

 

…

 

Their belongings are all in the rental truck; the house that they’ve lived in since Carl’s birth is bare and ready to be sold. Rick takes a long look at it, biting his lip to rein in his emotions. All the memories he has of the house, the good and sweet, are overshadowed by the terror Shane subjected Carl to within its walls. For that, Rick is ready to move on.

“Dad, come on!” Carl calls.

He looks at his child, his lover, who’s in the arms of another man. Negan smiles at him, beckoning him over. Rick glances at the house once more and sighs. He goes to them; Carl latches onto him. Negan hands them both helmets and gets on the bike. Carl hops on behind him and pats the seat behind himself for Rick. With Carl between his thighs and the thunderous sound of Negan revving the engine, Rick lets himself relax.

“You ready, Rick? This is it,” Negan asks, hazel eyes meeting his.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m ready.”

And with that, they’re racing off into the horizon, wind rippling past them, howling in his ears.

They’re leaving behind a major part of themselves, the people and places that are all they’ve ever known. Carl can’t contain his fear of leaving or his anticipation of his new life. Yet, for the first time in his life, with the sun in his eyes and wind in his hair, he is free.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

Epilogue

  
  
  


It’s been a week since he graduated from Washington and Lee University. Rick and Negan had driven back to Alexandria, Virginia before him so he could pack everything and put his apartment up for sale. He’d driven back home that day, into the arms of his father and lover, both of them eager to have him back under their roof. Late spring in Virginia is even more gorgeous than the Georgian summer. The lilacs in their expansive backyard are blooming; Negan’s magnolia trees on the front lawn are flowering up something incredible. The healthy grass is pink, covered in their soft petals.

Their first real reunion together is spent in the living room, kissing and hugging. Two hours later, they’re still making out on the couch, and Carl’s laying flush on top of Rick, their actions are languid and tender. Negan is content with just watching, a hand stroking through Carl’s curly hair. Rick groans a little at the feeling of a sweet, willing body pressed so close to him. Their shirts hitch up, and Carl’s warm skin on his is too incredible to describe. Seven years since their first kiss, and Carl still tastes the same- sweet and creamy and fresh.

When their initial desperation for each other subsides just enough, they have a nice lunch together. Rick and Negan banter like an old married couple; Carl thinks seven years of living together can make anyone seem that way. They planned a get together with Michonne and some ex-Savior members later that day with barbeque and potluck. Negan acts like a housewife; Rick says it’s because of his old age. Negan argues that 50 is barely old age.

As their guests begin to arrive (Sherry, Amber with her husband, Tanya, Frankie with her young fiance, Michonne, Daryl, Dwight, Ron with Enid as a couple, and Maggie and Glenn), Negan panics because he didn’t buy enough fruit or ice cream. Rick laughs and takes Carl’s hand, volunteering to go to the market. Negan decides to go with them, appointing Michonne to keep the chaos to a minimum.

The farmers market is packed with shoppers excited for the spring harvest. The three of them split up: Rick to the dairy aisle for ice cream, Negan to the alcohol aisle for more beer, and Carl to the fruit aisle for peaches and watermelon. He smiles at the familiarity of the task and goes to choose his peaches, picking out the most vibrant and fragrant ones. Just as he finishes and turns to go towards the watermelons, he crashes into someone, ripping the plastic bag that holds his carefully selected fruits. They fall all around him, and the stranger apologizes, bending down to help gather the peaches. Carl hurriedly grabs a couple that are rolling away and reaches for one the same time the man does, and he finds himself face to face with Shane Walsh.

An older, more worn out Shane but Shane no less. The man looks like he’s rushing somewhere; his clothes look rumpled and days old, like he’s slept in them. All the air is punched from his lungs, and he stops dead in his tracks. All the memories resurface. He’s thought of the man before, in countless moments over the last couple of years. When he walks to his apartment after classes, he expects someone to show up and shove him into a car. When he climaxes into his lover’s (Rick or Negan) hands, he imagines hot pants in his ear. When he has sex, he might feel phantom hands on his hips and neck. When he wakes in the night from nightmares, he sometimes lays in irrational fear that someone might enter the room and _take_ him. But Rick and Negan are always next to him and their collie, Lucille, is always protective and asleep by the foot of the bed.

Carl is just as beautiful as Shane remembers, even more so now that he’s grown into a gorgeous young man. He’s still the blue eyed, pale skinned, long limbed boy that Shane had loved for more than a decade. Carl stares at him with an unreadable expression before it melts into the saddest little look that Shane has ever seen. An apology lingers on his tongue, hundreds of them, millions even, but he’s so startled to even see the boy that he can’t form any words. Someone in the distance calls Carl’s name, and the boy’s head snaps to the direction of the voice. He looks back at Shane another time, gingerly taking the peach from his hand. Their skin brushes, and Carl’s flinch is barely noticable.

He turns away, brushing a tear off his cheek. It’s the last time he ever sees Shane again. They return to the party with everything they need; they don’t talk about his red rimmed eyes until later. Everyone has a good time. Frankie still flirts with Rick, even in front of her fiance. Ron and Enid catch up with him. Daryl invites Carl to go hunting in autumn. Michonne kisses him on both cheeks and strokes his hair. There’s a congratulations and gifts and laughter, but his thoughts of Shane linger and linger.

That night, when they’re cleaning up and everyone’s gone off to their hotels, Carl cries. He cries about Shane and those 20 months for the first time in years. Rick holds him, lets him sob, rubbing circles into his child’s back. The cool silver band of the lilac ring on his pinkie comforts Carl. Lucille nuzzles his back, licking broad stripes across his cheeks. Negan lays with him afterwards, on the bed, and they face each other without saying a word. He reaches out to take Carl’s smaller hands in his.

“Wanna talk about it?” he murmurs. Rick spoons Carl, stroking up and down his sides gently.

“Not really,” Carl responds. Then he pauses and sits up, reaching for his phone. “Could we… go for a ride? On the motorcycle?”

Rick’s eyes soften, and Negan’s already grabbing their jackets. They settle onto the bike, Carl between the two of them, and they ride. It’s nearly midnight, the sky weighs down with rain, the highway is deserted. The mountains on their right side and wide lake to their left echo with the pittering sound of rain. Carl presses his cheek to Negan’s back, closing his eyes and feeling the wetness in his hair and on his face. His father’s heat against his back is comforting. He remembers the first motorcycle ride with Negan. He remembers being fifteen and angry and scared. He remembers the feeling of freedom that day, as they left Georgia behind.

This time, the freedom is there, but Carl feels a closure of sorts. Seeing Shane again made him realize just how much and how little he’s changed. This time, they’re not running from anything, bad memories or unresolved guilt. This time, Rick’s hands are warm on his hips, Negan’s body anchors him, and they just ride.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> How did I do? :^)  
> Did y'all cry? Was it terrible? Please don't kill me!  
> Feedback would be lovely! <3


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